“Oh yiss yiss, an’ you’ll be one o’ the Guosim, knew it as soon as I saw yer spiky little ’ead. Up’n’down, up’n’down this river yore tribe used to go alla time, oh yiss yiss. Don’t see many Guosim these seasons though, no no, river’s too fast for shrews I think. Whoo! Aren’t I the terrible one fer gabbin’ though. Yiss yiss, y’can spit in the river an’ not make much difference to it, that’s wot I always say. Yiss yiss!”

Dippler thrust his chin out aggressively at the watervole. “Who d’ye think yore talkin’ to, bush’ead? No river’s too fast for a Guosim shrew, an’ we should know ’cos we’ve sailed ’em all!”

Still grinning, the vole rattled on. “Ah well yiss yiss, I see what y’mean, so I do, an’ yer a fine figure of a shrew so y’are an’ I take back any lie I uttered about yer, yiss yiss, so I do, ’cos an egg in a duck’s belly is neither under nor over the water an’ that’s a fact so ’tis, yiss yiss . . .” All through his ceaseless babble, the watervole’s eyes were fixed greedily on Song’s greenstone stick. He was making her uncomfortable, so she quickly hid it behind her back.

“Excuse me, but could I fit in a word sideways? I’m Song, this is Dann and the shrew’s Dippler. We’re just looking for someplace to eat and spend the night. We don’t wish to stand here and be talked to death, if you’ll forgive my saying so.”

Springing forward, the watervole began shaking Song’s paw vigorously. “Oh yiss yiss, yer well forgiven, missie. I’m called Burble. Me muther had a sense o’ humor, y’see, yiss yiss. Food’n’rest, is that all y’ll be needin’? Well, foller me, the Riverheads can supply that, y’can be sure as an onion’s a sour apple with too many coats, yiss yiss!”

Song had great difficulty extricating her paw from Burble’s ceaseless pawshaking, but the moment she did the vole shot off like an arrow. They had to follow him at a headlong run.

Why they could only see the firelight’s glow soon became clear. It emanated from a great cave hewn deep into the riverbank slightly above water level. Burble bowed to them as they stood panting outside.

“Ah yiss yiss, ’tis only an ould bit of a hole, but ’tis home to me an’ has been to my father an’ his father before him an’ his father before him an’ his father before him and his mmffff!”

A big old gray-furred watervole had come out and clamped a paw over Burble’s mouth. He nodded at the newcomers. “Y’know, sometimes us Riverheads say that the river’ll stop babblin’ before young Burble does. Do you all come in now, an’ welcome!”