Mara stared about her in amazement. They were on the edges of a fantastic body of water—it was a veritable inland sea. The fresh morning sunlight beamed down upon tideless waters whose only movement was the outgoing ripples set up by the logboats’ entry into them. As far as any eye could see, there was water, leagues of it, with no sign of island or shore on the distant horizon. To the left and right of them the broad expanse was sheltered by fringed forest with trees, bushes, shrubs and plants dipping their foliage into the water. It was vast and beautiful in its silent serenity; stillness reigned everywhere.

Log-a-log smiled at the badger maid’s wide-eyed expression. “How’s that for a sight on a lovely summer morning, miss?”

Mara could only shake her head in silent admiration of the scene.

“I say, you chaps, this is a bit more like it, wot? I’m feelin’ much better now. Break out the brekkers, send in the scoff!”

They breakfasted on the open lake, though this time not on emergency rations. There was plumcake, honey-oat scones, mushroom salad and sparkling new cider.

Pikkle ate his using a hardtack biscuit as a plate. As he munched he stared about. “Well, give us a clue, boys. Where’s the jolly old island hidin’?”

Log-a-log pointed straight out. “Two days rowing that way.”

*   *   *

After breakfast they took up their paddles and began the long voyage to the island. At first Mara’s paws felt stiff and awkward, but she was soon rowing as well as anyone and joining in the lusty shrew boatsongs that helped keep the rhythm of the paddles steady. Pikkle stoutly denied he had ever felt sick and sang as loudly as the rest.

“I’ll sing you a song of the river-o,

Where the water’s clean and clear,

And the long fast Guosssom logboats go.

We’re the shrews that know no fear,

So bend your back and use those paws.

From gravel bank to sandy shores,

Your cares and woes will disappear,

Just sitting paddling here.

Guossssssssom. . . . Guossssssssom!

I’ll sing you a song of the river-o.

It belongs to me and you.

O’er deeps and shallows we’ll both go,

With the finest Guosssom crew,

When other creatures bound to land

Will not feel half so free or grand,

Or know the water shrews’ great skill.

So paddle with goodwill.

Guosssssssssom. . . . Guossssssssssom!”

*   *   *

In the early noontide the two logboats were still out on the lake. Nothing could be seen on all sides save water; sky and lake met on all horizons. The paddles dipped steadily in and out of the water with short powerful strokes.

Nordo noted the sun’s position and called a refreshment period. Lots of shrews dipped cupped paws into the lake and drank with relish. Mara followed suit gingerly, but found to her surprise that it was cold and sweet. Pikkle dabbled his paws in the water.