Cheek gripped a trailing rope in his teeth and swam strongly with it. The raft doubled its speed. Arrows zinged all around them as the rats leant over the rails of their own ferry raft.

“Keep down, keep pulling, keep paddling,” Orlando yelled. “They’re coming after us.”

As he shouted, a shrew next to him let go and floated away, transfixed by an arrow.

*   *   *

Stonefleck was on the ferry raft, firing arrow after arrow.

“Don’t let them get away,” he exhorted his army. “Get the poles. Come on, get pushing with those poles. Fire! Keep after them!”

With superior numbers and long poles, the rat ferry drew closer to the raft. Stonefleck waved to the shore.

“No more fire arrows,” he ordered. “You might hit us. We’ve got them now!”

*   *   *

Log-a-Log spat into the water.

“Did you hear that, Guosim. Kick now. Kick for your lives!”

The woodlander’s raft pulled away fractionally, but Stonefleck urged his rats to greater efforts with their long poles.

The two vessels were separated only by a thin margin of river. Stonefleck and a few chosen rats stood outside the rails of the ferry, preparing to jump from one craft to the other. The light of victory gleamed in Stonefleck’s normally impassive eyes.

Matthias pulled himself up and saw what was happening.

“It looks as if they’re going to board us,” he said gloomily.

Orlando heaved himself from the water and stood dripping on the deck of the raft, waving his battleaxe.

“Come on, rats, let’s see what you’ve got inside your heads!” he taunted.

An arrow from the rat ferry struck Orlando in his paw. He pulled it out contemptuously. Snapping it easily, he flung it at Stonefleck.

“You’ll have to do better than that to stop me, ratface!” he called.

Suddenly the raft sped off downriver on the rushing current. The rat ferry stopped stock-still, throwing Stonefleck and several others into the water.

Hurriedly, the rats dragged their leader and the others back aboard.

Stonefleck twanged his wet bowstring and spat water. “Why didn’t somebeast untie the ferry towropes? Pull us back to shore. We’ll have to follow along the bank.”

A ragged cheer arose from the shrews’ raft as the friends disappeared into the night on the rushing water.

*   *   *

That evening, a group sat around the table in Cavern Hole discussing General Ironbeak’s ultimatum. The reaction was angry and indignant.

“Who does he think he is? Redwall isn’t conquered that easy.”

“We beat them once, we can do it again.”

“Aye, but this time Ironbeak has the hostages.”

“He’ll kill them if we don’t surrender.”

“Hurr, he’m a crafty owd burdbag, that’n.”