Gonff dried his paws. “Then why don’t they go around it?”

“Because it’s there, I suppose.” Log-a-Log shrugged. “It stands as a challenge. The ship I was on avoided it like the plague. But not Cap’n Ripfang, master of the vessel Bloodwake; he’s the most black-hearted sea rat of ’em all. Ripfang’s had many battles round Salamandastron. They say he swore a mighty oath never to rest until he rules that mountain.”

Martin stood, stretching his limbs. “But what’s up there? What do they fight against?”

Log-a-Log shook his head. “Some say one thing, some another. Fire dragons, armored monsters or phantoms that can strike a creature down without touching it, who knows?”

“There’ll only be us to find the truth,” Gonff remarked, shouldering the supplies. “What chance do monsters stand against a Prince of Mousethieves, a warrior and a champion digger, not forgetting a shrew like yourself, matey. Come on. Let’s get going.”

* * *

Toward evening, with the mountain burning bright above them, Martin first noticed they were being watched.

“Do you see anything, Gonff?” he asked, when he’d told his companions.

“No, matey, but I know what you mean. I can feel the hairs on my neck rising. What about you, Din?”

“Ho urr, moi diggen claws be a-tellen me summat, tho’ wot it be oi doant know.”

Log-a-Log was in agreement, too. “Aye, just a sort of feeling really. D’you see that lump of something or other out by the tideline? I could swear it moved a moment ago.”

“Don’t stare at it,” Martin warned them. “Keep going. Shortly we’ll make as if we’re camping down for the night, but we’ll lie down with paws to weapons, keeping our wits about us. Then let them make their move.”

The travelers chose an open spot away from the rocks. They lit a small driftwood fire and lay around it, feeling very vulnerable.

Martin kept his eyes slitted against the guttering fire, clutching his sling in one paw and his sword hilt in the other. Agonizing moments stretched away; still there was no sign of movement. The friends began to think that their suspicions had been groundless. Night had fallen and it was quite warm; there was not even a breeze to disturb the loose sand.

The fire burned lower.

Despite himself, Martin began to feel sleepy. He fought to keep his eyes open. Dinny’s soft snores reached his ears, Gonff was lying too still to be fully awake.

“I say, did you fellahs do a bunk from the jolly old sea rats?” a voice said softly in Martin’s ear.

“No, we’ve come all the way from Mossf—” Martin answered in a dozy murmur.

He sprang up, whirling his sling.

Lying amongst them by the fire were three hares.

The warrior mouse was shocked and angry with himself. “Stand up and fight, you dirty sneaks!” he challenged them.

The nearest hare held up his paws to show they were unarmed. His companions smiled innocently at the travelers.