Florian Dugglewoof Wilffachop’s ears quivered with indignation. “Soho! It’s bad manners an’ insult time, is it? Well, listen t’me, you popbellied, pickle-nosed, lousebound patchquilts! You can both take a runnin’ dive into that stream an’ boil your fat heads, an’ furthermore you can take your mange-ridden hides out of our camp before I assist you with a stout right boot. Good day to ye both!”

Gelltor had his ax half drawn when the otter Elachim picked up a thick pole used in a balancing act and flicked the air in front of the fox’s face with it. “I wouldn’t draw that ax if’n I was you, matey. This pole cracks ’eads easier’n it does eggs!”

Predak found herself facing Borrakul holding his big pebble ready to throw and backed by the two moles brandishing burning sticks from the fire. Runktipp dashed across to the cart and dragged out a long shining sword, a stage prop that bent and flopped about comically.

“Now back off, both of ye, or get ready t’find out the color of yore own insides. Move!”

The Marlfoxes knew they were outflanked and outnumbered, and backed off toward the rocks. Gelltor pointed at the troupe and snarled, “We’ll meet again, but ’twill be different next time!”

Florian threw the hem of his frock coat up across one shoulder and called back in an outrageously dramatic voice. “Indeed it will be different! The land will be rid of two rogues when next we cross paths, mark m’words, you spotty villains!”

Predak pointed beyond the troupe and shouted, “We’re not the only two here. There are others behind you!”

The entire troupe turned and scanned the landscape. After a moment or two Florian scoffed, “Not an earthly sight of anybeast. What do they think we are to fall for that one, a bunch of oafs, wot?”

When they turned back again the two Marlfoxes had vanished as if into thin air. Florian sighed. “Wish we could learn that trick. Ah well, comrades, onward ever onward.”

Deesum was still looking about fearfully. “Onward to where?”

With a great flourish the hare kicked the cooking pot over, letting the meager broth spill into the stream. “Why, onward to Redwall Abbey of course, m’dear, where else?”

Roop chuckled and rubbed his stomach gleefully. “Hurr, oi dearly luvs ee vittles at Red’all h’Abbey.”

Florian issued the orders. “Attention, troupe! Load up the cart. Borrakul, Elachim, in the shafts, please. Runktipp, you and I will walk behind armed with poles to protect our rear. The rest of you ride in the cart. We must get the news to Redwall, there are Marlfoxes in the land!”

As late-morning heat shimmered on the flatlands and grasshoppers chirruped dryly beneath a hot summer sun, the cart trundled off toward Mossflower Wood, with the entire company singing.

“Oh for the open road,

No dullard’s life for me,

The world is my abode,