Before Sagax or Kroova could stop him, the hare swept the sand lizard up in both paws and hurled it up among the other lizards. He could not avoid throwing up a certainamount of sand with the reptile. The lizards backed off speedily. Scarum smiled brightly.
Isay, did y’see that? One good turn deserves another. I imagine they were glad to get their pal back, but they don’t seem to like sand bein’
chucked at ‘em, wot?
Sagax gathered up a double pawful of sand. Then let’s try out your theory and chuck some sand!
Kroova loaded his paws with sand, grinning roguishly. Aye, an’ let’s give em yore Salamandastron war cry just to show the blighters we mean business. One, two ...
Eulaliiiaaaaaaa!
The time-honoured battle cry of hares and badgers rang out as the three friends hurled sand at the grass above. Then, taking the slope at a run, they charged up the side, flinging sand and roaring aloud.
Eulaliaaaa! Give ‘em blood’n’vinegar, buckoes! Eulaliiaaaa!
There was not a lizard to be seen when they gained the dunetop once more. Scarum chortled, Hawhawhaw! Frightened of a bit o’ sand, eh, who’d have blinkin’ well believed it? Come out an’ show yourselves, you lily-livered, sausage-skinned, pot-headed, slimy-bottomed cowards, come an’ fight!
Whether by invitation, or just angry inclination, there came a loud hissing noise. Suddenly the dunetops were teeming with not just hundreds, but literally thousands of the sand lizards. All looking rather angry.
The three companions hurtled down from the dunes, sand spraying everywhere from beneath their pounding paws.
As they raced across the low hills away from the crater, Kroova shouted, You and yore big fat mouth, why did ye have t’go an’ challenge those reptiles, ain’t you got no sense at all?
The hare sped past his two friends onto the shore. Steady on there, planktail, 1 didn’t know they could understand me. I just got caught up in the heat of the moment, y’might say, blood roused by the jolly old war cry an’ all that, wot wot!
Suddenly Sagax could not help bursting out laughing. Hahaha! I thought the only thing that’d ever raise your blood would be a double helping of apple pie. Hahaha!
Now that they were in sight of the Stopdog, the humour of the situation hit Kroova and Scarum.
Y’could be right there, old sport, hawhawhaw. I can get jolly warlike if anybeast tries to put a spoon in my soup!
Hohoho! Bet you’d scrap with twice that number o’ lizards fer a steamin’
bowl of skilly’n’duff. Haharr, harr, that’d be a sight t’see, mates!
They made it to the boat in safety. Sagax was loosing the headrope from its driftwood stump when Scarum called out, Look there, the flippin’
lizards have stopped on the dunes. See, they’re all standing there just watchin’ us. Cheerio, you snot-nosed sand slopers, you string-tailed, pop-eyed, spotty-skinned, flirty-clawed sand swif-flers!
Kroova winked mischievously at Sagax and nodded toward the Stopdog.
Leaping aboard, he yelled out fearfully, Look out! The lizards are coming this way fast!
The vessel sailed out from the shallows, with a panicked Scarum splashing madly after it. Wait for me, you bounders! You wouldn’t leave a chum behind to face those leaping lizards alone, would you? Rotters! Lend a paw or chuck me a flippin’ rope, pull me aboard before they get their slimy claws on me. Cads!
They hauled the hare aboard, joshing him unmercifully. Oh deary me, you got wet paws, mind you don’t catch a chill!
Hahaharr, wot about the sharks, mate? Didn’t seem t’be botherin’ ye as much as yore ole lizard pals!
Evening shades lay gently over a calm sea. Sagax was making a pot of vegetable soup and warming barley scones against the firepot. Scarum hovered close to the food until the badger chased him away.
I can’t cook with you breathing down my neck. Go and help Kroova to open that bamboo thing. Be off with you!
The sea otter was still struggling to release the stopper from the bamboo cylinder when Scarum, looking back over his shoulder at the supper cooking, tripped. He fell, cracking his head against the bamboo tube.
It split in two pieces, lengthways.
Ouch! Haha, I say, that solved your jolly old problem. Hello, what’s that?
Kroova unwrapped some greasy canvas from around the object that had been packed inside the cylinder. A dagger, just like that’n you got in yore belt, matey. Lookit the carvin’ on it. Well, ain’t that odd?
Same marks as on yore dagger an’ the stern o’ this vessel.
Sagax left off his cooking and hurried to join them. I wonder what it’s supposed to mean?
It meant little to Scarum, who pushed past Sagax and sat watching the soup bubbling. Huh, prob’ly means this soup’ll be ruined if I don’t tend to it. Good job that bamboo thingy wasn’t as hard as my handsome head, wot!
Kroova and Sagax ignored him. Mystified and puzzled, they both sat staring at the carving on the dagger handle.
12
Plugg Firetail had a reputation as the slyest, most bloodthirsty fox afloat. His ship, the Seascab, was the biggest Freebooting vessel in all the northern waters, crewed by the rakings and scrapings of vermin to whom savagery was second nature. Since dawn, Plugg had been watching the beacon burning on Riftgard Head. Seeing the signal fading from his stern cabin window, Plugg rose in high bad humour. Grabbing his long, skirted coat of plush green velvet, which had seen better days, he swung it around his shoulders and seized the huge double-bladed axe that was his favourite weapon. Sneaking purposefully up the companionway stairs to the aft deck, the silver fox muttered darkly to himself. The blisterin’ barnacles on this ship’s keel are more use t’me than this lardbrained crew!
An enormous, fat wharf rat, with no ears to speak of, was fast asleep over the Seascab’s tiller. Plugg halted within a pace of the creature and spat on both paws. Holding the axe sideways, he swung it hard, slamming the blade flat across the rat’s substantial rump. Splat! It had the desired effect. Grubbage, the bosun, squealed in pain as he let go the tiller and danced in a little circle, rubbing frantically at his bottom.
Yeeeeeowowow! Mercy, Cap’n, mercy!
Plugg took over the tiller, bringing his vessel about until it was headed for the beacon. He kicked out at Grubbage. I’ll mercy ye, y’great wobble-bummed grubwalloper. Didn’t ye see the beacon blazin’ yonder?
Tears poured from the rat’s squinched-up eyes as, cocking his head to one side, he rubbed away at his smarting behind. Wot’s that ye say, Cap’n?
Plugg roared aloud into his bosun’s face, Are ye blind as well as deaf, lardgut? I said, didn’t ye see the beacon blazin’ on Riftgard’Ead?
Grubbage pulled up both sides of his turban, revealing the severed stumps of both ears. Wot’s that ye say, Cap’n, somebeast eatin’ an grazin’
on a guard’s’ead?
Plugg leaned over the tiller, clapping a paw across his eyes and sighing deeply. When he looked up again, his first mate, a thin, gap-toothed weasel called Slitfang, had arrived. He was pointing excitedly at the beacon.
Haharr, lookit wot I jus’ spotted, Cap’n, someplace afire!
Grubbage looked toward where Slitfang was indicating. D’ye think somebeast’s’avin’ a feast? Roastin’ fish prob’ly, eh, Cap’n?
Plugg gestured to the two of them. C’mere, stan’ close together, right’ere in front o’ me.