“Looks like a sidestream ahead up yonder!” he gasped out.

But the watervole did not seem to fancy the idea. “No no, not that ’un. ’Tis a dead end, I think, full o’ slime an’ gnats. ’Twould be stupid to go up there, Dann!”

“Waaaaylaaaahoooo! Death to boat-robbers!”

Song chanced a quick glance back up the river, her mind made up. “Head toward that sidestream before they come round the bend and sight us. If ’tis a stupid idea to hide up a slimy dead end then mayhap they won’t look there. Don’t argue, just do it!”

As they cut across the stream, Burble scattered some supplies from his sack, bread and clay dishes, into the water. “They’ll find those in the rapids downstream. P’raps they’ll think we was wrecked. Duck yore ’eads an’ ship those paddles!”

Weeds, tall rushes and overhanging bush raked their backs as the Swallow glided into the cutoff. The water was dark, murky and fetid; gnats, mosquitoes and all manner of winged pests shrouded the four fugitives. Dippler grabbed some bulrushes and held the boat still. Sloppy green water vegetation swirled briefly on the surface and then settled again, as if no boat had ever disturbed it. Song’s heart was pounding like a triphammer—she was sure it could be heard if anybeast passed too close. Fighting to get their breathing under control, they flattened themselves in the well of the Swallow. Dippler slapped at a large flying beetle that was trying to settle on his face. Dann shot him a warning glance, and then they heard the Riverhead tribe. It sounded as if they had a dozen or more boats out in pursuit. Old Gray One was in the lead craft, directing them.

“Waaaaylaaaahoooo! Straight ahead, they can’t outrun us much longer. Bend yore backs, River’eads, keep t’the middle current!”

“Yiss yiss, but we ain’t sighted ’em yet. Wot if they’ve shot off up’n sidewater, like that’n o’er there?”

“Arr, don’t talk daft, vole, they got’n a Guosim shrew wid ’em. That’n ’ud know enough not t’do anythin’ so silly. Cain’t y’see, ’tis a dead end up there? Has bin fer many a long season!”

“Mebbe we’ll overtake ’em at the rapids. Even Guosim shrews ain’t so crafty when it comes ter rocks’n’rapids, eh?”

“Aye, y’could be right there. Wait’ll I gits me paws on ’em, an’ that liddle turnfur Burble. I’ll beat ’is brains out wid the Leafwood afore I toss ’im into the rapids wid ’is thievin’ friends. Yiss yiss!”

“Flamin’ cheek of ’em, stealin’ our Swallow like that!”

“Pirates, that’s wot they are, matey, river pirates!”

“Well, mark me word, they’ll suffer the same fate as any pirate would. Onward, River’eads, straight course ahead now!”