The captives found good dry grass to lie upon. It was nearing sunset now, and songbirds were shrilling their last plaintive tunes before nightfall. Cynthia Bankvole found some dried moss, which they stuffed between the manacles and their limbs. It was comforting and soothing. Tim shared some wild fennel and green acorns he had gathered on the day’s march.

Auma lay with her chin on her paws, staring into the forest ahead of them. She was very tired and thinking of nothing in particular when she found herself staring into the eyes of a large frilled newt. The creature winked at her with his flat moist eyes.

“Little stripedog all chained up. Sillybeast, why d’you lettem do that to yer?” he asked.

“We’ve been captured by Slagar and his band. Who are you?” Auma whispered urgently as she called the others with a wave of her paw.

Mattimeo prodded Cynthia. “Keep an eye on the guards. Let’s see what this fellow has to say.”

The newt crawled a little closer, lying low to keep his bright red underbelly from showing.

“Name’s Scurl Droptail. Too clever to lettem chain me up. See ’em pass here before, fox an’ weaselfellers.”

“Scurl, can you help us?” Mattimeo tried hard to keep his voice calm.

The newt blinked and wobbled his crest. “Why’ll Scurl help you sillybeasts? Not lendin’ yer my keys. Scurl got many keys, special keys, open any lock.”

“He’s got keys!” Tess murmured to Mattimeo so Scurl could not hear. “We must try to borrow them.”

Mattimeo licked dry lips, then spoke earnestly to the newt.

“Scurl, you must realize our position. We’re in danger, we might never see our homes again. You must lend us your keys. I promise we won’t keep them. We only want to borrow them for a moment.”

The newt closed his eyes and shot his tongue in and out as if he were in deep thought. Then one eye opened.

“Wotchergot? Cummon, wotchergot, ’ey? It’ll cost you, oh yes, cost you. Scurl’s keys don’t borrow fer nothin’ no, no.”

Sam nodded. “That’s fair enough, Scurl. Wait there a moment, will you.”

They huddled together, whispering.

“What do we use to bargain? I’ve got nothing,” Mattimeo said.

Auma produced some pressed blue flowers. “They’re mountain flowers. My father used to find them for me. They might not be worth anything, but they’re pretty. Bet he’s never seen mountain flowers.”

Tim spat something out and dried it on his habit sleeve. “My lucky green stone, though it’s not brought me much luck. I’m always sucking it. Look, it’s quite flat.”

Mattimeo looked from one to another. “Anything else?”

Tess took an object on a thong from about her neck. “This is my seasonday gift from Mum. It’s a carved beechnut shaped like a bell.”