Brian Jacques - [Redwall 10] - The Long Patrol

tight to the ground until they were well away. Midge threw the hood of his cloak up. “Now t’get old Fourdun free.

Right, Tamm, straighten up there! Make it look as if we’re two sentry-type vermin takin’ a duty patrol ’round the

camp, wot.”

Picking their way boldly ’round Rapscallions sleeping by campfires, the pair made their way down to the stream.

Blug-gach the Rapmark Captain was snoring next to his companions by the water’s edge, their fire untended and

burned to white ashes.

Tammo crept up to the cage and identified himself to the old squirrel. “It’s Tammo an’ Midge. C’mon, old chap,

time to go!”

A few swift slices of Tammo’s dirk severed the ropes on the cage door, and Fourdun crawled out, having already

freed himself of his bonds with the small knife they had given him earlier.

Positioning themselves either side of Fourdun, the hares gripped his paws and marched him off quietly, Midge

whispering to him, “If anybeast stops us, leave the talkin’ to me. We’re two Rapscallion guards takin’ you to Damug

’cos he wants to question you. I’ll bluff us through, don’t worry.”

Lousewort had two things going in his favor: an extra-thick skull and remarkable powers of recovery. Staggering

from the dark smoky shelter, he sat on the ground, nursing his head and grunting with pain.

Rinkul, who had been watching the darkened shelter suspiciously, came bounding over. “Where’s the two

prisoners? ’Ave yer still got ’em?”

Shaking his head gingerly, Lousewort peered up at him. “Er, er, I dunno, it went dark all of a sudden!”

Rinkul ran back to his fire and snatched a blazing brand. Kicking Lousewort aside, he rushed into the shelter, and

seizing Sneezewort cruelly by one ear, he struck him several times with the burning stick until the rat came ’round

with a yelp.

“Bunglin’ idiot,” Rinkul snarled into Sneezewort’s frightened face. “Y’ve let ’em escape, ’aven’t yer! Best thing

you can do is take off fast afore the Firstblade learns they’re gone, or Damug’H slay youVyore mate fer sure. Go on,

beat it, an’

don’t raise no alarms. Leave those two t’me, I’ll settle wid ’em!” He signaled to his waiting band. “Arm up an’

let’s go, they’ve escaped. Don’t go shoutin’ an’ roarin’ all over the camp. I wants those two ragbags fer meself. We’ll

catch ’em an’ take ’em somewheres nice’n’quiet where I’ll do that pair ’ard an’ slow afore dawnbreak. Now go silent!”

Lousewort staggered upright, and Sneezewort leaned on him for support. “That’s us finished wid the Rapscallions,

mate. Let’s be on our way afore Warfang wakes an’ decides to ’ave us fer brekkfist!”

Without another word, they stumbled off, south, as far as they could get from Damug Warfang’s vengeance.

The three escapers made their way uphill through the still-sleeping camp. Tammo felt that all was going well, too

well, and that worried him. Fourdun peered around into the darkness and suddenly saw Rinkul and his band striding

through the camp, coming in their direction.

Thinking swiftly, the old squirrel pulled his two friends down beside half a dozen vermin lying ’round a fire, and

scrambled beneath Midge’s cloak. “Lie still, some o’ the scum are comin’ this way!”

Hardly daring to breathe, they stretched on the ground amid the slumbering Rapscallions. Rinkul actually trod on

the hem of Tammo’s cloak as they went by, and Tammo heard the ferret murmur to one of his companions as they

passed, “I’ve got a feelin’ they’ll be down by the stream where that ole squirrel’s caged up!”

Raising his head carefully, Midge watched them from the back as they headed toward the water. The trio rose

slowly, avoiding the outstretched paws of a stoat who was acting out a dream. The stoat snuffled and turned away

from them, kicking out with a footpaw that came into contact with a glowing log.

“Yowch!”

At the sound of the creature’s yelp, Rinkul and his party turned.

Midge saw they were discovered. He took off at a run, hissing to his friends, “Fat’s in the fire, chaps, make a dash

for it!”

Silently and grimly the chase of death began as they shot off uphill.

The stoat was clutching his scorched footpaw, hopping about. One of RinkuFs band whacked him with a cudgel as

he passed, and snarled, “Go back ter sleep, mate!”

Though Fourdun was a strong old beast, he was not half as fast as the two hares, so they were forced to run at his

pace. With the enemy hard on their heels, they got clear of the encampment and made the brow of the hill. Midge

turned and threw his spear, and it pierced a vixen who was running alongside Rinkul. This slowed their pursuers

momentarily and bought them a second’s time.

Breasting the hill, Tammo called out as they ran, “Rock! Rockjaw Grang!”

Lower downhill, the giant hare heard Tammo. Leaping from cover, he bounded uphill to meet them. Rinkul was

first over the hilltop. He had pulled the spear from the dead vixen; taking aim at Midge, he threw the weapon skillfully.

“Sithee, Midge, look out!”

Rockjaw flung himself in a flying tackle, bulling into Midge and knocking him sideways. The spear took Rockjaw

through his side.

Hatred welled up in Tammo. He heaved his own spear straight at Rinkul. It struck the ferret through his middle,

snapping off as he fell and rolled downhill toward them.

Rockjaw brushed Midge and Fourdun aside as they tried to lift him. Close to a dozen vermin were dashing down

upon them now. The big hare unslung his bow, crying, “Get goin’, I’ll hold’em off!”

The lifeless carcass of Rinkul the ferret halted its downhill roll in front of Rockjaw. He forced the hardwood stick

from its death grip and tossed it to Tammo. “Good throw, young ’un. Russa woulda been proud o’ ye. Now leave me

an’ run fer it, I’m bad hit!”

Fourdun ducked an arrow as he inspected Rockjaw’s side. He looked up, shaking his head at Tammo. “’Twould

kill him to pull the spear out!”

The big hare sat up and sent two arrows in quick succession at the vermin. Notching another shaft to his bow, he

glared angrily at the two friends standing either side of him. “Sithee,

‘tis not yore night to die. Now get out o’ here an’ don’t stand there wastin’ my time. Leave me t’my work!”

Ignoring them completely, he fired the arrow and selected another.

Fourdun tugged at their paws, whispering urgently, “Can’t y’see he’s dyin’? If we stay here we’ll ail be slain. That

beast doesn’t want or need yore ’elp. Come on!”

Attracted by the shouts of their comrades, the vermin from the camp edges near the hilltop appeared. Rockjaw

laughed wildly. “Hohoho! Come t’the party, buckoes, the more the merrier! Tammo, Midge, tell the Major I took a few

wid me. Good fortune, pals—run straight’n’true an’ remember me!”

Tammo, Midge, and Fourdun had to run for it before the Rapscallions encircled them. They ran like the wind into

the night, shouting, “Give ’em blood’n’vinegar, Rock!” Soon they were lost among the groves and knolls, charging

headlong across darkened country until there was no sound save the thrumming of their paws against the earth.

Rockjaw Grang sat on with his back against a jutting boul-..; der, the arrow quivers of two dead vermin beside

him, his sling and stones ready for when he ran out of shafts. Completely surrounded, and wounded in four places, he

fought on.

“Come on, thee cowardly scum. Ah’ll wager nobeast warned ye about Goodwife Grang’s eldest son.