Skipper whacked his tail against the side of the log. “Well, you could fool me anytime, shipmate.”

Mask tossed aside the false tail and ears. Spitting out the two false front teeth, he readjusted his body. He was an otter again.

“Maybe I fooled you, maybe I didn’t. But you’re not fooling me, Skipper of Camp Willow. What do you want me to do?”

Skipper sat back, folding his paws across his chest. “I have a proposition to make to you, brother Mask. Sit still and hear me out.”

* * *

Tsarmina glared through the cell aperture at Gingivere. The imprisoned wildcat sat in the darkest part of the cell. His fur was tousled, damp from the walls dewed his paws, his head drooped despairingly. Now and then his eyes would flicker rapidly. The wildcat Queen brought her face close to the bars.

“If you know what’s good for you, you’ll tell me all about how those two hedgehogs made their escape. Speak up. You must have heard or seen something—they were in the cells either side of you.”

Gingivere leaped up, his voice a cracked singsong shout. “Hahaha! You let them escape so you can have their bread and water. I knew you wouldn’t give me any. You’re keeping it all for yourself. Oh, I saw you, sneaking along the passage. You let them go so that you could have all that bread and water for yourself. Heeheehee.”

Tsarmina turned to Cludd. “Listen to that. He’s completely crazy.”

She swept off down the passage. Cludd stayed a moment, looking through the bars. He had never seen a completely crazy wildcat before, although he had seen his mistress dangerously close to that condition once or twice.

“No bread, no water, she’s keeping it for herself.” Gingivere continued his insane lament.

Cludd banged the door with his spear. “Quiet in there!”

“Atishoo!”

The sneeze came as Cludd was turning away. He whirled back. “Who did that?”

Gingivere grabbed a pawful of straw and sneezed into it. “Atishoo, choo! Oh, I’m sick and dying, sir. The cold and damp down here. Please get me extra rations of bread and water or I’ll die.”

Cludd rapped the door with his spear again. “Enough of that! You get the rations Lady Tsarmina allows. So stop moaning, or I’ll give you something to moan about.”

As the weasel Captain lumbered off down the passage, another sneeze rang out.

“Atishoo!”

On the wall above the cell door, two food haversacks hung from a spike driven into the rock. Ferdy and Coggs sat, one in each sack, their heads poking out like two fledgling housemartins in their respective nests.

Coggs reached across, trying to stifle Ferdy’s snout with his paw, but another sneeze rang out.

“Atishoo!”

Ferdy blinked and rubbed his snout. “Sorry, sir. This bag has flour in it from the scones, and it’s tickling my sn . . . sn . . . Ashoo!”

Reaching up, Gingivere lifted his little cellmates down from their hiding place. While there were no guards about, they could play and exercise.