36?

Two hours after dawn the next day, four logboats plied the waters of the broad stream north by west from Redwall. Fore-mole Diggum and his team crouched uneasily in the boats, some of them with cloaks thrown over their heads. Moles are not noted for being great sailors, preferring dry land to water.

“Boo urr, taint natcheral tbe afloaten abowt loik this!

“Hurr nay, oim afeared usns moight be a sinkin unner-water!

Log-a-Log dug his paddle deep, scowling at them. “Belay that kind o talk, I aint never lost a beast off n a boat o mine yet. Quit the wailin an moanin, willyer!

Skipper stuffed bread and cheese in his mouth, winking at his otter crew as they gobbled a hasty breakfast. “Ooh, es an eartless shrew, thatn is! Ahoy there, moles, come an join us in a bite o brekkfist, mates.

Gurgan Spearback, swigging from a flask of October Ale, noted the moles distress.

“Hearken, Skip, yon moles were a funny enough color afore ye offered em vittlesdont go makinem any worse!

Log-a-Logs companion Freckle pointed with her oarblade. “There tis, see, two points offn the starboard bow!

Part of the stream forked off down a narrow tributary. Steering the logboats into it, they followed the winding downhill course of the rivulet, wooden keels scraping on the bottom as they went. After a short distance, Log-a-Log waved his oar overhead in a circular motion.

“Bring all crafts amidships, sharp now, bownstern broadsides!

Four logboats were soon wedged lengthways against the flow, their stems and sterns resting on opposite shores of the narrow waterway. Gratefully, the moles scrambled ashore, kissing the ground in thanks for rneir safe landing. Skipper and his otters went ahead to the point where the stream disappeared into a hillside.

“This is it, mates, announced Skipper. “Spread out an search for a big boulder!

By the time the rest arrived, the streamflow had dwindled a bit, owing to the course being blocked by the logboats.

Gurgan waded through it and climbed the hill to admonish Skipper. “Thourt still hurted, thee shouldnt ha come!

The tough otter scratched at one of his wounds, which was beginning to itch. “Coupla scratches never stopped me doin what I like, mate. Ahoy mere, mates, thats a good ole boulder ye found!

The stone was partially sunk into the earth, but Foremole Diggum and his crew soon dug it out. Using a smaller rock as a chock, the otters levered the roundish mass of stone uphill, using shrew oars to move it. Gurgan threw his added weight into the task, while Foremole marked out a spot on the hilltop, calling, “Bring ee bowlder up to yurr!

Once or twice the heavy stone rolled back on them, but they were determined creatures. Otters, shrews, moles, and the Wa-terhog Chieftain gritted their teeth and fought the boulder, fraction by fraction, until it rested on Foremoles mark. Sighting with a straight twig, Foremole ordered the boulder moved a bit this way and a bit that way. Finally satisfied, he took an oar and gave the boulder one hard shove with the paddle end. The great rock toppled down into the stream, sending up a shower of water; then it rolled back downhill and lodged itself squarely across the spot where the flow vanished underground. Moles and otters dashed down to pack the edges with a mixture of mud, pebbles, and whatever bits of timber came to paw.

The flow of the stream halted and backed up on itself until it became a becalmed creek. A short celebratory meal at the creekside would have been appropriate, but the otter crew had eaten all the food, so they drank the last of the October Ale and plum cordial, then got the boats headed out. Log-a-Log called out to the moles, who had remained onshore, “Come on, mateys, back to the Abbey. Twill be a fine fast sail downriver, well be back afore ye knows it!

Foremole wrinkled his nose, trundling off along the bank-side. “Youm go, zurr Log, an gudd lukk to ee. Usns be walkin back even ifn it takes ten season tdo et. No more sailin fur molers!

Tammo watched, fascinated, as Midge Manycoats applied his disguise before a burnished copper mirror in Sister Violas dormitory. The small hare explained as he went along.

“Alter the face first, thats half the trick. See, I roll my own ears down and put on this ole greasy cap with false ears stickin out the side of it, ones only half an ear an the other has a slice out of it, just like some smelly ole vermin. Now, I rub mface with this oily brown stuffpass me that candle, Tamm. Singe the whiskers down an rub em til theyre scrubby. Good! Put a patch over one eye, and paste a thin bit o bark over the other, givin it a nasty slant. Aye, thats more like it. Look, a little black limpet shell, stick it on the end of my handsome nose with a blob o gum, an presto! Snidgey pointed vermin hooter, wot! Few bits o darkened wax over the teeth, two long thorns stuck in the wax just under the top lip. Haharr, fangs! Pass me that greasy charcoal stick, hmm, two wicked downcurved lines, one either side of the mouth, thats it! Righto, I throw this filthy tattered sack over me, belt it with a loose cob o rope, crouch down a bit, hunch shoulders, shuffle footpaws. What dyou see, Tammo?

The young hare gasped in amazement. Standing before him was an aged vermin creature, neither wholly rat, ferret, or stoat, but definitely vermin of some type.

“Great seasons o1 soup! No wonder they call you Midge Manycoats!

Midge adopted the whining vermin slang. “Harr, waitll yer sees yerself when Im done wid ye, cully!

Rockjaw Grang was having what he figured would be his last good hot meal for a while, working his way through an immense potato, mushroom, and carrot pastie oozing rich dark herb gravy. Dibbuns surrounded the big hare, watching his throat bob up and down as he polished off a tankard of dandelion and burdock cordial. Gubbio the molebabe pushed a steaming cherry and damson pudding in front of Rockjaw, and Sloey, none the worse for her adventure, poured yellow mea-dowcream plentifully over it.

“Whoo! A you goin to eat alia dat up, mista Gang?

Rockjaw sat the mousebabe up on the table. “Sithee, jus you watch me, liddle lass, but keep out of tway, else Ill scoff thee an all. Aye, yd be right tasty wi a plum in yore mouth an some cream oer yore ead!

Clapping their paws and jumping up and down, the Dibbuns chortled, “Goo on, mista Gang, eat Sloey alia up!

The giant hare set Sloey back down on the floor. “Only if shes very naughty. Ey up, wots this?

Two thoroughly evil-looking vermin shuffled into the kitchens and began dirtying their blades by coating them with vegetable oil and soot from the stovepipes. The Dibbuns shrieked and leapt upon Rockjaw, clinging tearfully to his neck. He patted the tiny heads soothingly.

“Shush now, liddle uns, tis only Midge an Tammo actin at bein varmints. You go an play with the babby owls an Russano now. Ill eat those two up ifn they frightens any more Dibbuns.

Shad the Gatekeeper took Abbess Tansy and Craklyn down to the platform beneath the south wall. They lowered two lanterns on a rope and saw that the water had dwindled away to a mere trickle.

Shad grunted with satisfaction. “Ysee, marms, they found the stream an likely blocked it off. Soon itll be dry down there. Mayaps then well go down an take a look around. I dont mind tellin you, Im real curious tsee wot tis like. I know you are too, miz Craklyn.

The old Recorder peered down at the drying stream bed. “Its my duty to see whats down there. Everything has to be recorded and written up for future generations of our Abbey. Which leads me to think Ive been looking in the wrong place to find out more about thisthe answer might lie in your gatehouse, Shad. I suspect that if we look through Redwalls first records, the truth about all this may emerge.

Tansy kissed her old friends cheek. “But of course! What a clever old Recorder you are, Craklyn.

The Recorder of Redwall turned away from the pit, signaling Shad to escort them aboveground. “Youre no spring daisy yourself, Mother Abbess. Come on, weve a long dusty job ahead of us.

Shad hastily excused himself from the task. “Beggin yore pardons, but I got other chores tdo. You ladies elp yoreselves to anythin yneed in my gateouse. I cant abide the dust an disorder when you starts unpackin those ole record booksnscrolls off the shelves, miz Craklyn.

Tansy watched the otter hurrying off across the Abbey lawns. “Other chores to do, indeed, great wallopin water-dog!

Craklyn chuckled as she took her friends paw. “Dont be too hard on poor Shad. Otters never made good scholars. Hes probably off to play with little Russano and the baby owls.