Nordo grinned across at her. “Hah, did you hear that, lads? Come on, let’s show these two that we’re the sons of the roarin’ shrews!”

Paddles plunged deep as the logboat shot forth like an arrow, each shrew defending the reputation of the Guosssom as they bent their backs and rendered a lusty paddling shanty.

“Pull, boys, pull!

O, we’re the sons of the roarin’ shrews

And a logboat is the home we choose.

O, pull, me bullies, pull!

Now we can stamp an’ we can fight

An’ paddle logboats day and night.

Pull, boys, pull!

I was born in a stream on a stormy day,

So I jumped in a boat and paddled away.

O, pull, me bullies, pull!

A paddle’s me son an’ a boat’s me wife,

An’ the open water is me life.

Pull, boys, pull!

O, I can scoff an’ outfight you,

I’m the paddlin’ son of a roarin’ shrew.

O, pull, me bullies, pull!”

Not to be outdone, the crew of the other logboat took up the shanty and began paddling harder. Soon it had developed into a full-blooded race. The two boats fairly skimmed over the waters, paddles flashing and bow waves throwing up spray.

For all his girth and weight, Tubgutt was a powerful creature. He dug his paddle long and deep, laughing aloud at Pikkle’s unorthodox but effective methods. The young hare was like some crazy jack-in-the-box, ears flopping either side as he bobbed up and down, grunting hard at each paddle stroke and improvising his own shanty.

“O, I’m a Salamandastron lad,

An’ by my reckonin’ that’s not bad.

Scoff, chaps, scoff!

Now listen, shipmates, while I say

I’d rather scoff than paddle all day.

O, scoff y’villains, scoff!

I don’t think that I’d feel so sore

With an apple pudden in each paw.

Scoff, chaps, scoff!

So set me down on good dry earth,

I’ll eat an’ snooze for all I’m worth.

O, scoff, y’villains, scoff!”

*   *   *

On through the afternoon the two logboats raced, sometimes neck and neck, but mainly with Mara’s boat in the lead, owing to the formidable strength and staying power of the badger maid and her friends. Because of the speed they were traveling, the pressure on the hull of the damaged vessel was causing water to leak in ever faster. Log-a-log and the bailing party had their paws full trying to cope with the flow but, caught up in the spirit of the race, they battled on.

*   *   *

Toward evening the island was beginning to loom large. Rearing up out of the surrounding deeps, it was a high, rocky outcrop, fringed on top by foliage, bushes and overhanging trees. The red sky of eventide silhouetted it eerily. Still fearful of Deepcoiler’s reappearance, the Guosssom paddled on with their last reserves of strength, anxious to be ashore.