Florian snorted. “Cheeky bounder. Go on then, be moles, all of ye, see if I jolly well care!”

Runktipp put on his best mole accent. “Gurr, Foremole zurr, do us’n’s be abowt ready naow?”

Foremole waved a digging claw to his crew and the Noonvalers. “Hurr, moi ’earties, chuck umm o’er gudd’n’ard naow!”

On Foremole’s command the joint crew of moles and performers grabbed the baskets and slung them forcefully over the parapet, scattering the contents on the attackers below.

Rimrose and others brought cool damp towels up to the defenders, who wiped their eyes and bathed their faces gratefully. Rimrose clasped Janglur’s paw. “Somebeast told me that Skipper’s out there. Oh dear, I do hope he’s all right. D’you think they’ve captured him?”

Janglur chided his wife gently. “There y’go agin, worry worry all the time. First ’tis Song an’ her friends, now it’s Skipper’s turn. I tell you, beauty, that ole riverdog’s safe as a nut in its shell. He’d have a good laugh if’n he could see you now, frettin’ an’ fussin’ o’er him. Skipper can take care of hisself better’n I can, believe me.”

Rimrose bathed Janglur’s heavy-lidded eyes carefully. “Well, if you say so I suppose Skipper’s safe. I’m thankful that Song an’ those two other young ’uns are well out o’ this.”

The squirrel warrior squeezed his wife’s paw lightly. “Those three? Huh, I’ll wager they’re somewheres snug along a riverbank, feedin’ their faces an’ singing round a campfire!”

Rimrose smiled and nodded. “Aye, an’ our Song’s the one who’ll be doing the singin’. Oh, mister Florian, let me bathe your eyes for you, they look sore.”

Florian adopted his brave face, though his eyes were indeed streaming from the oily smoke. “Most kind of ye, marm. Confounded little smudge in the corner of me left lamp here, p’raps you can get it. Nothin’ like the thistledown touch of a pretty squirrel, wot wot!”

Mayon came from the south wall and reported everything quiet. Friar Butty, who had been watching the west wall, said the same. Janglur looked over to the north wall, where the Guosim shrew Splikker was stationed. “Wot’s wrong with ole Splikker? Looks like he’s lissenin’ hard over there. Go an’ see if anythin’s amiss, Bargle.”

The shrew slid off, crouching low. After a brief conversation with his comrade he came hurrying back. “Splikker reckons there’s a steady noise over that way, comin’ from nearby. Sounds like they’re choppin’ at somethin’.”

Janglur and Rusvul went to the north wall to investigate. They crouched low alongside Splikker, listening to the steady ring of ax against timber. A leaf landed on Janglur’s head. The squirrel studied it, then popped up to chance a quick scan of the woodland. He sat back down again, gnawing worriedly at his lip.