The young hare stared at the quivering, prostrate vermin. "I'm with Oakheart. It's one thing slaying a foebeast in the heat of battle, but defeating 'em then killing the survivors isn't right. That'd make us murderers, an' no better than the Flitcheye. Where I come from, that sort o' thing just ain't done. It's against any true warrior's code."
Jango nodded. "Ye may have a point there, Buck. But wot are ye goin' t'do, eh? We can't just turn 'em loose."
A sudden idea came to Buckler. "Give the Flitcheye a taste of their own medicine."
Rainbow, the only mole in the Witherspyk troupe, chuckled gruffly. "Ahurrhurr, you'm mean to make ee vurrmints sniff en they'm own narsty smoke, zurr?"
Diggs backed his friend up to the hilt. "I say, what a super wheeze, Buck. Send the filthy blighters off for a jolly long snooze, wot. That'll teach the little rotters. Ha wha wha w!"
The plan seemed to catch the approval of everybeast, even Jango and Sniffy. Buckler set the scheme into action, calling out orders. "Take all their weapons and chuck 'em in the stream. Get them all out of those scary rags an' face masks--burn the lot! Sniffy, scout along the streambank. See if you can spot a couple of willows near the edge. Jango, Oakie, get all their supplies of those herbs they use to create the knockout fumes!"
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It took a while, but finally everything was in position. Stripped of all their barbarous apparel, the Flitcheye were exposed for what they really were, a pathetic, primitive tribe of stunted weasels. They stood in sullen silence as Guosim logboat crewbeasts bound them securely, neck to neck, tail to tail and paw to paw.
Both hares and the Witherspyks escorted the hobbling gang along the bank. Sniffy had chosen well. Three big weeping willows growing side by side spread their leafy canopy down to touch the stream current. To both sides and the rear of the willows, Jango and his Guosim were piling up mounds of dried brush, dead leaves and damp loam.
The Flitcheye wailed and moaned as they were bound to the trunks and branches of the willows.
"Ayaaaaah! No, no, please, sirs. Mercy!"
Diggs wrinkled his nose at them. "Oh, stop blubberin'. A few days' sleep an' a bloomin' big headache when ye wake should do you rotters the flippin' world o' good, wot, wot. Cheer up now, chaps!"
The entire supply of the dreaded herbs was spread on the mounds. Jango was allowed the privilege of setting light to the fires. The Guosim Log a Log was in jovial spirits as he tossed lighted brands onto the heaps of combustibles, grinning from ear to ear.
"Sweet dreams, ye stinkin' villains! C'mon, now, all together, breathe deeply.... In an' hold, an' slowly out! There, that's the style, an' I hope ye'll wake with a headache that'll last ye a half season, ye scurvy vermin. Now, how does that feel, mateys?"
Standing clear of the fumes, everybeast waded into the shallows to watch what would happen. The overhanging willows acted like an enveloping canopy, catching the smoke and holding it as it grew more dense. Dimly, they could see the Flitcheye being punished for their misdeeds. With eyes streaming, the vermin stood bound to the willows, some trying to hold their breath, others weeping
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and moaning as they slumped into a nightmarish pit of dreams.
Buckler shouldered his blade. "Justice done, eh, Jango?"
The Shrew Chieftain clasped his paw warmly "Aye, done, an' seen t'be done, matey!"
Diggs winked at Sniffy. "Y'see, old scout, there's more ways to skinnin' a frog than feedin' it 'til it bursts, wot. Come on, let's go, but quietly, please--don't want to disturb those chaps from their snooze!"
The rest of the night passed uneventfully. They took a quick breakfast in the dawnlight and set off upstream with the flotilla of logboats and the raft. The woodlands were still enclosed in the gloomy green-tinged half-light as they turned off down the sidestream.
The water was foul and stagnant, because it terminated, further up, in a dead end. Much to the relief of everybeast, the tree foliage thinned out, exposing blue sky and sunlight overhead.
Log a Log Jango called a halt, whilst one of the Guosim produced an earthenware jar full of an evil-smelling unction.
Diggs sniffed it and gagged. "Phwaw, what a bloomin' pong! Is it some sort of secret weapon for chuckin' at the blinkin' enemy?"
Taking a pawful, Sniffy began smearing it on his face. "This is shrewgoo, mate. Ain't you ever 'eard of it? Lissen, we're goin' t'be sailin' through all sorts of stingy insecks soon. Wasps'n'ornets, zingers'n'biters. The blighters'll eat ye alive if'n you ain't got shrewgoo on yore face."
Jango began daubing the stuff on his head. "Sniffy's right. Those insecks don't like the ole shrewgoo--they won't bother ye if'n ye smear some on."
Taking the Guosims' advice, all the travellers applied the anti-insect unction to their faces, though not with any great relish.
Trajidia wailed pitifully, "Alas, this fair maid will never
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again smell like a dawn-dewed rose. Creatures will run a mile from me!"
Auroria, Oakheart's other daughter, leaned over the rail of the raft. "Whooohoops! I think I'm going t'be sick, dreadful pongy shrewgoo!"
"Shooey pongroo!" was baby Dubdub's comment.
Diggs watched in horror as Buckler smeared his face. "Good grief, Buck! You ain't actually puttin' that confounded stuff on your han'some young fizzgog, wot? Keep it well away from me, chaps. I'd sooner put up with the jolly old zingers. Hah, I ain't smellin' like a mouldy old toad's midden on a rainy day. Not me!"
Jango's wife, Furm, shook her head at Diggs. "We'll see, my friend. We'll see!"
Though the trees had thinned out, the reeds, bulrushes and wraterweed thickened up drastically. Travelling in single file, the logboats had to force a passage through for Streatnlass.
Then the insects struck. The still, hot air buzzed and thrummed as they attacked in myriads. Clouds of winged tormentors rose from the disturbed waters of the side-stream.
Dymphnia, carrying baby Dubdub, urged her daughters, Furm, Crumfiss and the other ladies into the blockhouse on the raft. They slammed the door and let down the shutters. It worked rather well, so they lit a smoky fire, which poured out of the little chimney, giving some relief to the paddlers. Diggs was in a pitiful condition, his whole head, from eartips to throat, covered in angry swellings.
Buckler assisted Jango to push him into the blockhouse, even though Diggs was protesting.
"Ab aw bwight, chabs---lee me balone!"
Jango hustled him roughly inside, calling to the ladies, "Take care o' this young idjit. His mouth is so badly stung he can't even talk proper!"
It was midnoon before they lost the insects, owing to the tall trees closing in on them again.
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Buckler sat down on the raft deck, sighing with relief as he stared up into the green-tinged gloom. "I'd sooner face a vermin horde than have t'go through that again. We'd best go an' see how our wounded warrior's doing, eh, Oakie?"
The irrepressible Diggs was surrounded by females dabbing him with soothing salves of dockleaf, sanicle and foxglove. He gave them a lumpy smile, winking one swollen eyelid as he supped up warm vegetable soup through a hollow reed.
"Hewwo, chapth. I bee alwight thoon, woth woth!"
A shudder shook the raft as Jango called from outside, "That's as far as we goes. Make fast all vessels, fore an' aft. Sniffy, see everythin' is well covered with branches'n'bush. Form up on the bankside. We'll be movin' out soon!"
They sat on the banks of the cul-de-sac making their last meal that day. Buckler thanked Dymphnia and her daughters as he tucked into vegetable soup, a hazelnut bake and some cold plum duff.
Trajidia fluttered her eyelashes furiously as she giggled. "Think nothing of it, sir. 'Tis the least we could do after the way you steered us through that pestilence!"
Dymphnia chided her daughter. "Stop that outrageous flirting and get busy serving vittles to these hungry beasts!"