Log a Log Jango shook his head. "Sorry, Oakie. Yore lot are actors, not fighters. Ye'd just be in the way out there. Best thing you can do is stay 'ere an' defend Redwall."
Abbess Marjoram noted the crestfallen look on her old friend's face, so she seized his paw anxiously. "Please say you will, Oakie. I can't abide the thought of my Abbey lying undefended!"
Oakheart Witherspyk gave her paw a squeeze. "Fear not, gentle Marjy. My troupe and I will guard Redwall with our very lives. To defend this wondrous place will be my honour and privilege!"
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Baby Dubdub tried, but got the words muddled. "Op-pener rivilege!"
Under cover of darkness that night, the party headed out into the woodlands by the small east wickergate. Skipper and Buckler headed the column, with Sniffy a way out front, scouting the land. Diggs and Jango brought up the rear.
Everybeast was on the alert as they stole through the silent fastness of the woodland depths. A pale half-moon rode the scudding clouds over the breeze-swayed treetops. Behind them, the twin bells of the Abbey boomed the midnight hour.
Diggs could not resist smirking a bit as he nudged Jango. "D'ye hear that, old lad? A marvellous sound, ain't it? Couldn't have been done without the new bellropes y'know. I carried 'em all the way from Salamandastron on me own. Indeed I did! Lord Brang entrusted 'em to me, of course. 'Diggs,' he said, 'Diggs, you make sure that these bellropes reach Redwall safely. You're the only one I can bally well trust with 'em!' "
Jango hissed in the garrulous hare's ear, "An' did yore Lord Brang tell ye to get me killed when we're out huntin' vermin, by chunnerin' on aloud all the time?"
The tubby hare replied huffily, "No, he didn't, actually!"
Jango nudged him sharply in the ribs. "Then shut up, or I'll shut ye up!"
They had been on the go for quite some time when Sniffy came stealing back through a fern bed. He cautioned the leaders, "Somebeast ahead blunderin' about in a stream. I think there's only one, but I can't be sure. Couldn't get close enough without bein' seen."
Buckler's long rapier swished as he drew it from across his shoulder. "Right, Skip. Let's take whoever it is."
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Thwip the fox jailer leaned against the door which separated him from the young prisoners in the cavern. Trailing the tip of his whip in the dust, he gnawed at a grimy claw.
His partner, the vixen Binta, saw his furrowed brow. "Wotsa matter with ye? Yer look like you lost a goose an' found a wren. Wot's up? C'mon, tell me."
Thwip nodded at the prison cavern. "Somethin's brewin' in there, I'm sure of it, Binta."
The vixen shrugged. "They seem all right t'me. Huh, always 'ungry or cryin' for their mothers. Same thing as usual. Hah, yore worryin' over no thin', mate!"
The brutal fox shook his head. "No I ain't. There's some-thin' goin' on in there, an' I just can't put me paw on it. Look, I'll show ye."
Drawing Binta close to the door, he whispered, "Ye can always hear those liddle nuisances in there, movin' about, whimperin' an singin' daft songs about their homes an' families. Lissen close--there's not a sound comin' from in there ... right?"
The vixen took her ear from the door. "Right, but wot does that mean? They're prob'ly sleepin'. Captives ain't got much else t'do."
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Thwip lifted the lock bar silently, carefully. "Now, watch this!"
He flung the door open wide, almost knocking two small hedgehogs flat. He glared at Jinty and Jiddle, the Witherspyk twins.
"Wot are yew two doin' stannin' there like that, eh?"
Jinty was a good actress. She rubbed her stomach sadly. "We was on'y waitin' for ye t'bring us vittles, sir. Will ye bring us some, please? We're all 'ungry!"
Binta took a practised glance around the interior. All she saw was huddled groups of young ones lying about on the floor and the low ledges at the rear of the badly lit cavern. She drew Thwip to one side, muttering out the side of her mouth at him, "Y'see? I told yer there was nothin' wrong. They all look sleepy an' down'earted. Must be through all the time they've spent in this gloomy 'ole. Huh, you'd be the same if'n ye was one of 'em. Bein' short o' vittles, too, I'll wager that breaks down any spirit they once 'ad. C'mon, let's get outta this dungeon, afore it starts t'get us down, too!"
Thwip took a moment to peer about at the captives. "I don't see nothin' o' that fierce liddle shrew, d'you? P'raps we'd best take a count of 'em, eh?"
Binta was beginning to lose patience with her mate. "If'n that mad shrew's gone off in a corner an' died, well, who's bothered? Less trouble fer us, I say. An' as fer takin' a count, d'yer know 'ow many are in 'ere?"
Thwip coiled his whip up reluctantly. "No. Do yew?"
Binta gave an exasperated sigh. "No, I don't, an' I ain't about t'start countin' 'em. Wot's the matter wid yew, are ye goin' soft?"
Shoving Jinty and Jiddle to one side, Thwip stalked out, turning on his mate as she barred the door. "Lissen, smart-mouth--don't yew start talkin' t'me like that in front of the prisoners. I'm not 'avin' it, so there. Just keep yer clever remarks to yoreself!"
Binta was in no mood to continue the argument. "All
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right, keep yer brush on. Cummon, we'd better go an' get the vittles. That lot's gotta be fed, ain't they?"
Back inside the cavern, Flandor, the young otter, hurried to the shield of grass, mud and woven twigs which disguised the tunnel entrance. Calla and Urfa, the two little leverets, were sitting with their backs against it.
Lifting the two baby hares out of his way, Flandor removed the shield and called into the hole, "You can come out now--they've gone!"
The Dibbun Guffy and his friend the molemaid Gurchen scrambled out, rubbing soil from their faces.
Guffy spat out a fragment of wood. "Zurr, ee Flimbeast bee's stuck unner a gurt root in thurr, we'm bee's a-tryen t'pull hurr owt!"
The young otter thumped his rudderlike tail impatiently. "Not again. That's the fifth time she's gotten herself jammed by roots!"
Gurchen was a well-mannered molebabe. She curtsied prettily before replying. "Burr, thurr bee's more rooters than ee cudd shake a stick at en thurr. Et b'aint gunner be no h'easy job, oi tells ee, zurr h'otter!"
Flandor wriggled into the tunnel entrance, muttering, "I'm gettin' a bit fed up o' pullin' little missy trouble out o' roots. Ah, well, here goes!"
Tura and Midda stood by, giggling as they heard Flib being hauled out backward by Flandor.
"Yaargh! Ya great clod'oppin' riverdog--yer rippin' me tail out by the blinkin' roots. Leggo!"
"Oh, go an' boil yore head, shrew. If'n ye tried pushin' harder, I wouldn't 'ave to tug like this. Stop moanin', I'll have ye out soon!"
"Well, 'urry up, planktail, afore I suffercate!"
They tumbled out together just as Jiddle called from the door, "Here comes the vittles. I can 'ear the foxes outside!"
There was no time for Flandor and Flib to clean
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themselves up, so to cover their dishevelled state, they staged a fight in the middle of the floor. Actually, they were so mad at each other that there was little need for play acting. Thwip rolled the cauldron in on its trolley, followed by Binta with the water tub.
The vixen grinned, pointing at the pair tussling in the dust. "There's yore mad shrew, tryin' to slay that otter!"
Thwip curled his lip. "Hah, leave 'em an' let's 'ope they kills one another! Come on, yew lot. Line up 'ere if'n ye wants to eat!"
Binta broke off serving water and set about the fighters with her water ladle, beating them hard. "Break it up, now. Stop this fightin', d'er 'ear me?"
Thwip sighed ruefully. "Yore right, mate. If'n anythin' 'appens to 'em, 'tis us that gets it in the neck from the Sable Quean. You, shrew, any more trouble an' ye don't get vittles or water. Is that clear?"
Flib snarled at her jailer, "No vittles, eh? Lissen, foxy-face, yew try that an' I'll stuff that whip down yer gullet an' make yer eat it!"
Thwip cracked the whip, making Flib jump back. "Ye can wait'll the last t'get served fer that!"