Crouching low, they skirted a small grove of evergreens, the falling rain covering any slight pawnoise that was made. Jess quietly blew raindrops from her whiskers as she beckoned them to stop.

“See, over there, to the left of the rowan tree.”

Sure enough, there stood the cart, its gaily painted wheels and sideboards spattered with mud and scratched by branches. Over the top they could see the coloured canvas lying heaped upon the cart bed.

“Waitin’ orders, sah. What do we do now, old scout?” Basil murmured.

Matthias weighed up the situation. “Well, we’ve got it covered from this side, and the stream’s at its back. Let’s just lie here a moment and keep our eyes open for any signs of life.”

“Signs of life? Say no more, old warrior chops. That bally canvas on the old cart is movin’.”

There was a muted growling noise from the cart bed as the canvas twitched and bulged. Matthias issued orders.

“Jess, you take the right, Basil, the left. I’ll go in front and center. Careful now, if it is anything dangerous then be sure to give me room for a good swordstroke. Come on.”

The warrior mouse gave Basil and Jess a moment to slip off and take up their positions, then he stood upright and walked silently to the cart, sword held at the ready.

Basil and Jess arrived at opposite ends of the cart at the same time as Matthias arrived in front of it. Taking up a stance with the deadly blade held ready for a thrust and slash, the warrior mouse nodded to his companions.

Simultaneously Basil and Jess grabbed opposite ends of the canvas and swept it off with one sudden heave. Matthias bounded onto the cart with a mighty leap, swinging the sword and roaring.

“Redwaaaallll!”

At the last moment Matthias swung the sword away. It struck the iron seatbar, sending sparks showering as a fat little otter lay in the cart with his bottom in the air and his head covered by both paws.

“Strike me rudder I didn’t steal your rotten old cart. I only wanted to play on it shiver me masts I ain’t messed it up or broke nothin’, on me affydavet I ’aven’t,” he shouted in a continuous babble.

Having said his piece, the otter bounded over the side of the cart towards the river, but Jess leapt with him and caught him by the scruff of his neck. The sword had sprung from Matthias’s smarting paws upon impact with the metal, and stood quivering in the earth, a hair’s-breadth away from Basil’s injured paw.

Matthias jammed his paws into his mouth. Sucking furiously, he did a small dance as vibrating pain lanced through them.

Jess shook the fat little otter soundly. “Be still, you little wretch, or I’ll run you up a tall oak and drop you off the top!”