idea, Diggum!”
Knotting their own belts and habit ropes together, they fastened them to the rope Foremole had brought with him.
Shad coiled it up. “That should be long enough fer the job. Now, wot we needs is an ’ook to tie on to our line. Let’s
’ave a look at yore treasure trove, young Butty.”
The squirrel Friar tipped a glittering heap of precious objects from their cloak wrapping and began sorting through
them. “Nothin’ here that looks like a hook, mister Shad.”
Craklyn selected a long thin dagger. It was a beautiful thing, more ornament than weapon, with a hilt crusted with
seed pearls and blue John stones. Its slim, elegant blade was made of solid gold. “Here, this should do. Gold is soft
metal, it’ll bend.”
Shad took the dagger and, setting it in a crack between the stair stones, he bent it double with a few powerful
shoves. The rope was tied tightly to the dagger handle, and Shad twirled it like a sling.
“Right, mates, let’s go fishin’!”
The first few throws went short. Hauling the line back through the watery mud, the otter winked broadly. “I’ve got
the range now, this time does it. Redwaaaaaalllll!”
Mud splattered all ’round as he swung rope and hook in a circle above his head. Shad let go, paying out the coil as
his hook streaked out. It landed with a splodge, slightly beyond where the chain hung. Crouching down, he began
drawing the rope slowly in.
“Easy does it, messmates. Come t’ me, you liddle beauty ...”
The chain moved toward them. Butty waved his paws wildly, crying, “Good throw, Shad, you’ve got it!”
It was indeed a good, or a lucky, throw. As the chain appeared from beneath the surface of the swamp, they saw
that the point of the hooked dagger had actually passed through the center hole of a chainlink, snaring the chain
securely. But Shad took no chances; he continued drawing the line in carefully until he could reach out and seize hold
of the rusted and muddied object.
“Gotcha!”
Craklyn backed off, surveying the risky venture with a jaundiced eye. “Er, who’s going to go first?”
The otter Gatekeeper tugged boldly on the chain to test it. “Bless yer ’eart, marm, who else but me, seein’ as I’m
the biggest an”eaviest? If the chain ’olds fer me, ’twill be safe fer all.”
Without further ado Shad climbed up five stairs and stretched his paws high, holding the chain as far up as he
could. Abbess Tansy had a sudden thought. “Here, Shad, you’ll need the spear to clear those toads from the ledge.
Stay there, I’ll bring it to you!”
Shad bit down on die spearhaft and nodded, and the Abbess stood aside. He took a short run and launched himself
from the stairs. Tansy watched the gallant otter swing out in a huge semicircle over the vast lake of liquid mud, with a
spear clenched in his teeth and his tail standing out straight behind him, and knew she would never forget the sight.
She held her breath. It looked as though the wide, arcing swing was about to dip downward and plunge Shad into the
swamp. But on the final stretch he kicked out and up with both footpaws, jerking himself onto the ledge. The four
friends on the steps cheered heartily. Shad held the chain in one paw and thwacked at the fat revolting toads that had
already crawled up onto the ledge with his spear handle, sending them flying high and wide with dreadful hisses and
croaks of protest.
“Shove off, ye great blobs of blubber, g’wan, jump fer it!”
The oozing surface boiled with writhing mudfish tearing at the toads who, in their turn, gobbled down as many
mudfish as they could.
“Stand ready wid the ’ook an’ line,” Shad yelled across to Diggum Foremole. “‘Ere comes yore chain!” He swung
the chain out in a wide arc. Foremole threw the line, hooking it as it came within range.
“Oi got ’er. Coom on, miz Crakkul, doant ee be faint’earted!”
Craklyn went next, aided by a mighty shove from her friends. She wailed and yelled the whole way across the
ledge as she swung over the toads, mudfish, and deep morass.
“Whoooooeeeeeeeaaaaaa ... Heeeeeeelp!”
“Well done, marm. Never fear, I’ve got ye, yore safe now!”
The old squirrel Recorder ceased her din, smiling sweetly at Shad. “There, it didn’t hurt a bit. Send the chain back
to Tansy now, mister Shad. I’ve never heard an Abbess scream, have you?”
Tansy was next to go, but when Foremole and Friar Butty pushed her from the step, she did not scream at all.
Instead she clung on like grim death and closed her eyes tight. Shad and Craklyn caught her. She wagged
a
mischievous paw across at the Foremole. “Guess who’s next, Diggum?”
When he had hold of the chain, Foremole looked pleadingly at Butty. “Oi ’opes they toadyburds an’ muddyfishes
doant get oi!” As it was, Foremole probably had the best crossing of all, coming in to land so fast that he almost hit the
wall.
Young Friar Butty was last to go. His was the most difficult trip, because he had nobeast to give him a good
starting push. The fat little squirrel launched himself off, only to swing in a faint halfhearted circle and land back on
the steps.
Abbess Tansy roared across at him, “Oh, come on, Friar, you can do better than that. Imagine twenty hungry hares
are chasing you to cook dinner for them, and run.”
Butty went at his task with a will; grabbing the chain high, he dashed from the step and leapt out, yelling, “Go an’
get yore own dinneeeeeer!”
He flew across the swamp, but halfway across his paws began slipping down the muddy chain. Butty was still
traveling inward towards the ledge when he plowed into the swamp and vanished.
Immediately the surface of the swamp began wriggling and roiling with toads and mudfish.
Shad seized the spear close to its blade. “Quick, you three, grab the other end tight an’ don’t let go!”
Hanging on to the spear with one paw, Shad dipped daringly outward and grabbed the chain with his free paw.
“Pull me in, pull me in quick!”
They hauled him from his almost horizontal position back onto the ledge. Wordlessly they all took the chain and
pulled it in paw over paw, heaving madly at the rusted, mud-coated links. Butty was dragged forcibly to safety,
practically unrecognizable. He was coated from head to tail in reeking sludge, roaring and spitting mud as toads and
mudfish clung to him, gnawing.
“Blooaargh! Gerrem off me, the filthy dirty swampscum!”
They brushed and wiped at him, cleaning him up as best they could.
“There y’are, matey, you’ll live. The worst bit’s over now!”
Butty winkled mud from both his eyes and glared at Shad. “How do you know?”
Toads proved the only problem on the narrow rock ledge. They congregated there in droves, perching on one
another’s backs, standing on the heads of those beneath them, blocking the way, sometimes five and six high.
Sightless, filmed eyes, bulbous heads, damp spreading webs, and fat slimy bodies barred the path of the five
Redwallers. The cavernous space echoed to the sound of venomous hisses and croaks.
However, Shad was made of stern stuff. He headed the party, battling a path for them along the slippery rock strip.
Buffeting left and right with the spearhandle, he thrashed the creatures unmercifully until they were forced to flee into
the swamp. Toads plopped and flopped in scores to the waiting mire below.
The four creatures walking behind Shad kept their backs firmly against the wall. Gripping one another’s paws, they
edged slowly along to the mole tunnel, encouraging their champion.