Martin watched with interest. “What are you up to, matey?” he asked, keeping his voice low.

Young Dinny knew. “Ee’m maken a powl t’jump ditcher. Squirrelbeast do et iffen they baint no tree to swing offen.”

Martin took the pole and felt its balance. “Oh, I see. A vaulting pole. Good idea, Gonff.”

Making sure his grip was firm on the pole near its top, Gonff leveled it in front of him.

“Me first, Dinny next, then you, matey. Watch me and see how it’s done. I’m a prince of vaulters, y’know.”

Gonff broke into a fast trot. With the pole held straight out, he sped across the road, then dipping the pole into the ditch he levered upward and out. Martin saw the pole bend, carrying Gonff high into the air. The momentum swung him easily across the ditch. He landed lightly on his paws and pushed the pole back to the mole.

Dinny held it gingerly, whispering to Martin, “Murrsey, oi ’ates a leaven owd earth, ’tis on’y burds be so fool’ardy. Arr well, yurr oi goo.”

Dinny performed a waddling little shuffle, jabbed the pole into the ditch and rose slowly into the air. The impetus was not sufficient to carry him across; he wavered in the air and began dropping back. Martin made a mad dash. Catching the pole low down, he thrust against it and whipped back with all his force. Dinny was catapulted away from the pole across the ditch. He hit the far bank near the top and was grabbed by Gonff, who helped him to scrabble out. Dinny lay kissing the grass, thankful to be back on firm ground.

Martin’s strength and fearlessness helped him to make the crossing with ease. He quite enjoyed the sensation of flying through the air. When Dinny was fully recovered, they commenced their journey into the flatlands.

* * *

They were not long gone when Blacktooth yawned and stretched himself in the ditch. The trackers had camped a short distance south of the vaulting area.

Splitnose rolled over in his sleep and slid from the narrow strip of dry bottom into the slimy shallow water.

“Yaaauugghhh! You lousy vermin! Who did that? Come on, own up!”

“Heeheehee! You did it yourself, puddenhead. It’s a wonder you never carried on snoring.”

“What, me, snoring? Have you ever heard yourself? Sounds like a goose gargling.”

“Rubbish. I never slept a wink. Oh, I dropped off for a moment or two a while back. Funny, though. I dreamed I saw a mouse, just up that way apiece. Guess what? He flew across the ditch.”

“Heeheehee oh ahaharr! He wasn’t followed by Cludd pretending to be a swallow, was he?”

“Ha, you can laugh, fatty. But it was almost as if I was awake. The mouse flew, I tell you.”

“Fatty yourself! That’s what you get for hogging all those rations last night. It was a nightmare brought on by pure greed.”

“It was not. It was more like a daymare brought on by the hunger. I’m starving.”