The banter went back and forth until noon shadows began to lengthen. Song was enjoying herself, but she thought it was time they made ready to depart. Soll was busy crushing a grape, removing the pips and feeding it to Croikle as she explained it all to him, but he nodded his head understandingly. “Fear not, liddle ’uns, ’tis all clear to ole Soll. You want to find the stream goin’ south so’s you can go a-sailin’ in yore liddle boat. Now, ’twill take you best part o’ two days carryin’ the vessel, but lissen t’me, my dearies. I’ll carry yore boat an’ take you on a shortcut that’ll ’ave you onstream in a single day. So rest you now in my ’ome for tonight, an’ we’ll start out bright’n’early on the morrow. Yes?”

The reply was eagerly given by the friends. “Oh yes please, mister Soll!”

The hedgehog’s dwelling was a long jumble of stone slabs, timber, branches and mud chinking built into the side of a rock ledge. It was very homely and comfortable inside, once Soll had stirred up the fire embers and fed them with wood and sweet-smelling peat clumps. Evening cast its calm cool spell over all, and the four friends lounged around the fire while Soll stirred a cauldron of vegetable soup, which stood on a tripod over the glow. Keeping his soft brown eyes upon the task, he began telling of his life.

“I lived ’ere all me life. There were three of us, my goodwife Beechtipp, me liddle daughter Nettlebud an’ meself. Ah dearie me, it do seem a long time ago now. Anyhow, it was on a misty autumn time, I’ll never forget it. I’d trekked back t’the river seekin’ russet apples, as there was none ’ereabouts. Thought I might get a russet saplin’ to plant outside our door, so’s we could grow our own. Well, on the second day out it came on to storm, when ’twas too far t’make it back ’ome. So I made a shelter on the riverbank below the rapids an’ sat it out for three days. Then I returned ’ere, laden wi’ apples an’ a fine young saplin’ tree.”