Accompanied by Log a Log and some of his shrews, Janglur and Rusvul were collecting together all the serviceable weapons they could lay paws upon. Carrying bags made from old curtain drapes, they approached the gatehouse, where Cregga had told them there was a cupboard full of disused armaments. Suddenly, Rusvul stopped so sharply that Janglur almost collided with him. Log a Log looked at the warrior squirrel, who was glaring grim-faced at the walltop.

“Rusvul, wot’s the matter, matey?”

Ignoring the shrew Chieftain’s question, Rusvul shouted angrily, “Dannflor Reguba, what’n the name o’ blazes d’you think yore playin’ at up there?”

Still sitting poring over the writings, Dann waved cheerily down to his father. “We’re tryin’ to solve a riddle. ’Tis all about that isle on the great lake an’ how t’get there.”

Rusvul slammed his javelin point hard into the ground. “A warrior who’s put on guard duty should be doin’ just that, guardin’ the walltops! Not foolin’ about with games!”

Janglur cautioned his friend in a quiet voice. “Go easy, mate, Dann’s still only a young ’un.”

But Rusvul’s unpredictable temper allowed no margin for reason. “Supposin’ the foebeast launched an attack on the east wall while yore sittin’ foolin’ about on the west wall, what then?”

Friar Butty hastily bundled up the rhyme and passed it to Song, who stowed it in her tunic as all four stood up. The Friar spread his paws wide, bowing slightly to the party below. “You mustn’t blame them, friends, ’twas all my idea. I thought that young fresh minds would help me with my investigations.”

The burly shrew Fenno pointed an accusing paw at Dippler. “Hah! Might o’ known he’d be part o’ this. Remember wot ’appened to our logboats when he was supposed t’be guardin’ ’em, eh?”

Fenno found that he could say no more, because Log a Log’s rapier point was beneath his chin, forcing his head back. The shrew Chieftain spoke calmly. “Who asked yore opinion, loudmouth? Keep out o’ this or I’ll pin yore big tongue t’that liddle thing y’call a brain!”

Song tried to calm things down by addressing her father. “We really were guarding the walls. It was only when lunch arrived that we took a little break and had a look at the Friar’s rhyme.”

Janglur Swifteye winked lazily at his daughter. “I ain’t complainin’, missie. I felt good’n’safe down below in Cavern ’Ole while you an’ yore pals stood sentry up there.” He shrugged and nudged Rusvul playfully. “Wasn’t you ever young yoreself, mate? Come on, let it be. Dann’s a fine son, just like my Song’s a good daughter. We should be proud of ’em.”