Pursued by a shrew, cryin’ out ÔHey you, They’re the shoes of Footlecum Durr!’
Ruggum thought the song was hilarious and shook Burrl’s paw. Gurtly singed, zurr. Fooklum Gurr, ee’m wurr a sillybeast!
It was sometime before midnoon when Log a Log called a halt. This is about where we found the riddle’uns. Let’s’ave lunch an’ see if’n they can tell us which ways they went from’ere to find that big ole tree with the door in it.
Malbun and Crikulus doled out barley farls, soft white cheese and flasks of pale cider. Both were glad to be rid of the extra weight they had been carrying. Skipper split his farl and packed it with cheese. Before he took a bite, he called the two Dibbuns to his side and questioned them. Well, me ole mates, d’ye know where the old oak is from’ere?
Bikkle gestured in a wide arc nonchalantly. H’east nor-fwest, or souf I fink!
Crikulus could not help wagging a stern paw at her. East northwest and south, that’s a great help. Well, what have you got to say for yourself, Ruggum, eh?
The little mole clapped his paws together and chortled. Hurr hurr, oi did loike ee song bowt Fooklum Gurr, zurr!
Malbun stroked the molebabe’s velvet-soft head. Crikulus means do you know the way to the oak tree where you and Bikkle sheltered from the storm?
Ruggum answered candidly. Oi carn’t be sayin’, marm, et wurr dark an’
gurtly rainy ee see.’Tain’t gudd furr foin-den ee way abowt in darkly rainy weathers, burr no!
Sister Vernal’s murmur was audible. They’d have been more useful in the kitchens baking tarts!
Malbun was about to say something when she was knocked suddenly backwards by a big dark bird, which had zoomed down without warning. She clutched her chin and cried out, Aargh, what was that?
Another one followed like lightning, pecking the cheese from Gurdle Sprink’s paw. He swiped at it and missed. The bird swooped away into the trees amid a chorus of harsh cawing.
Skipper roared to his two otters and the shrews, Crows, a whole gang o’ the villains! Protect those two babes, mates. I ain’t got a sling!
Anybeast carryin’ sling an’ stones with’em?
Log a Log drew his rapier, casting an eye at the treetops. The big, dark-feathered scavengers were massing in the branches, watching the Redwallers menacingly. The Guosim leader kept his voice low and spoke calmly.
My shrews never brought slings along, not that chuckin’ stones’d do much good. There’s too many of’em. It looks like we’re in real trouble, mates!
Curdle rubbed at the deep scratches on his paw. Those birds are after our vittles! lis the food they want. What d’ye think, Skip?
The otter nodded, forming a plan in his mind as he spoke. Aye, 1 think yore right, mate. We can’t stand an’ fight, they’ve got us outnumbered.
Best thing we can do is to get out of’ere safe an’ sound. Log a Log, you an’ yore shrews will be up front when we go. Keep the two Dib-buns, old Crikulus an’ Sister Vernal with ye. Malbun, Gur-dle, an’ the rest, you stay close be’ind’em. Me’n’ my two ottercrew’ll cover yore backs.
Skipper sidled casually over to where the two foodpacks were lying.
Sliding his javelin through the handles, he lifted them cautiously off the ground.
The crows began crying out with renewed harshness. Skipper warded off two of them with a swipe of his rudder. They perched boldly on a raised tree root nearby. Hopping along the high branches, the rest of the crows dropped down to lower boughs threateningly Skipper’s keen eyes flicked from side to side, assessing the situation fully. He spoke gently to his friends.
Lissen now, you start movin’ out, slowly does it. But when you’ears me shout Red wall, then go as fast as yore paws’ll carry ye. Log a Log, get out o’ the woods an’ onto the path as quick as ye can. Now, get goin’, easy-like.
As soon as the party tried to shuffle off quietly, the crows dropped even lower, cawing agitatedly Skipper distracted the birds’ attention by grabbing the food packs and laughing loudly.
Haharrhar, ye winged vermin, is this wot ye want? Fresh bread an’ good soft cheese? I wager there’s a few liddle cakes in these packs, too, let’s take a look, eh!
Loosening the straps on the two small knapsacks, he swung them in the opposite direction from the retreating Redwallers. There were cakes, some candied chestnuts, too; the whole lot, together with bread, cheese and cider flask, scattered wholesale, bouncing off treetrunks and spilling into the shrubbery. Squawking and pecking at one another, the scavenging crows fought among themselves as they pounced on the food.
Skipper threw back his head and roared,
Redwaaaaaallllll!
Stunning the birds in his path with thwacks from his javelin, he took off after the main party, who were now plunging headlong through the woodlands. Ruggum and Bikkle had not been scared since the crows’ first appearance, surrounded by big, grown-up Redwallers. They felt perfectly safe. Bikkle was swept along, two shrews holding her paws. Lifting both footpaws from the ground, she was carried onward, giggling as she dangled in the air. It was good fun. Ruggum ran on his own for a while, then stumbled and fell. Before he could be alarmed at the main body passing him by, he was swept up onto Skipper’s powerful shoulders. Grabbing the otter’s ears, the mole-babe hung on, gurgling, Hurrhurrhurr, ee bee’s a gurt game, can ee goo farster, zurr Skip?
By the sound of the crows behind him, Skipper could tell they had decimated the foodpacks. Keeping his eyes on the path ahead, he assured the incorrigible molebabe, Aye, mate, we’d best step the pace up. Those birds’ll be comin’ after us soon. Move on up there, mates, faster!
Some of the older creatures were panting hard, so Skipper’s two ottercrew mates and the Guosim shrews gallantly lent helping paws to speed them on to the safety of the path. Now the crows were on their trail, their raucous cawing echoing louder as they approached. Curdle Sprink slowed his pace, allowing Skipper to catch up with him.
The Cellarhog glanced over his shoulder, puffing and panting. Can’t go on much further, Skip. You go on, I’ll stay’ere an’ make a stand for us. Should’old em off awhile.
Skipper shoved an end of his javelin into the hedgehog’s paws. No such thing, mate. Who’d be left t’brew good ale an’ cordials for the Abbey?
See, there’s the path up yonder. Grab ahold of this javelin with me, we’ll run together!
Ruggum reached over and patted Gurdle’s spiked head. Yurr, coom on, zurr, us’n’s won’t leaven ee behoind!
Log a Log was first onto the path. He shouted to his shrews as they hurried out of the woodlands, Grab some stones, Guosim, we’ll show those scurvy scum!
More Redwallers poured out onto the open path, as they took the shrew’s advice and gathered pawfuls of rough stones. A big crow was flying up behind Skipper, homing in on the back of Ruggum’s neck, when a stone struck it square on the beak. Other crows found themselves pelted with a lively salvo of large pebbles and chunks of rock.
Skipper was last, but finally he made it to the path. Lifting Ruggum down, he picked up stones and began whizzing them off at the angry crows with amazing accuracy, chuckling wolfishly. Haharr, buckoes, come an’
chew on some o’ this!
But the crows would not leave the tree cover, knowing they would be at a disadvantage on open ground. They took to the branches, hopping awkwardly about and cawing harsh disapproval of their would-be quarry’s tactics.
Old Crikulus was a surprisingly good rock thrower. He knocked a crow clean out of its tree with his first try. You great filthy cowards, how d’ye like some of your own medicine, eh, eh? Here, try this’n for size!