Martin and Gonff were given rough barkcloths to dry themselves. They sat upon the bank with the otters around a bright fire, eating thick wedges of carrot and parsley bread, which they dunked in a steaming bowl of river shrimp and bulrush soup, seasoned with fiery ditchnettle pepper. It was delicious, but extremely hot.

The otters munched away happily, laughing at the two mice and calling out old river proverbs.

“Haha, don’t taste no ’otter to an otter, matey.”

“The more ’otter it is, the more ’otter otters likes it.”

Martin and Gonff swigged cold water and laughed along with the crew.

Not long before they settled down to sleep, Duckweed and Streamer returned. They emerged, dripping, into Camp Willow. Between them they were supporting young Spring. Streamer had removed the arrow from Spring’s back. Fortunately, she was not badly hurt.

Skipper was delighted to see her, and he dressed the wound carefully. “Ho, ’tis me, little matey Spring. Never you fear, young un. If they gave you an arrow, we’ll pay ’em back with a shower of javelins. You get some vittles and a good rest. You’ll be right as a river rock tomorrow.”

Spring told them what had happened.

“When I got hit I didn’t swim away for fear of leavin’ a blood trail in the water, so I swam a little ways then laid under a bush hangin’ over the bank. I slapped a good pawful o’ mud on my wound to stop the bleedin’ and lay waiting. I knew Skip wouldn’t leave me long afore he sent help. I was that close to some of those vermin sittin’ on the bank that I could have reached out and laid a flipper on ’em. They were all talkin’ about somethin’ called a Gloomer—said that the cat had sent messengers to Kotir to fetch this Gloomer thing.”

Skipper patted Spring. “Well done, matey. You get some sleep now, and don’t fret your ’ead about nothin’. Old Skip’ll take care of it.”

Root struck his thigh with a heavy paw. “Ha! The Gloomer—I might’ve knowed it, Skip. What’ll we do now?”

* * *

The fire burned low in the Stickle dwelling as Goody tidied around before going to join Ben outside. It was a peaceful spring night. Ben knocked his pipe out on the gatepost. “Should be a fair day on the morrow, old girl.”

They both stood nodding. Suddenly Goody threw up her paws. “Well, in the name of Stickles, will you just look at those two liddle ’ogs a layin’ there.”

Ferdy and Coggs had really taken their sentry duty to heart. They had rigged up a tent from a blanket and branches. Nearby lay a jug of strawberry cordial and a half-finished apple pie which they had requisitioned from Goody’s cupboard. The two little hedgehogs lay with their arms about each other, snoring uproariously, cooking pot helmets askew, mouths wide open.

Ben chuckled fondly. “I do believe we’ll sleep sounder in our beds, Goody, knowin’ we’ve got these two terrors to guard us through the night.”