Urthwyte stood up carefully and stretched his cramped limbs, turning this way and that as he rolled the stiffness out of his thick leg muscles. Suddenly he pointed and cried out, “Over there, to the left, dark shapes in the water!”

Immediately the crews felt a chill of fear run through them. Was there more than one Deepcoiler? Perhaps the monster had a mate that was seeking vengeance for the slaying of its partner.

Log-a-log gave orders for them to ship paddles and be silent. The two logboats lay still and quiet on the waters, some of the Guosssom shrews even holding their breath with apprehension.

When Mara could stand the suspense no longer, she turned to Pikkle. “Come on, Ffolger. You’ve got good long-sight—up on my shoulders and tell us what you can see.”

Nordo and Log-a-log steadied Mara’s footpaws as Pikkle climbed up and stretched his lanky frame. “Can’t see much, you chaps. ’Fraid it’s too far away. Paddle over to the left a bit, please, and maybe then it’ll become clear.”

Log-a-log gave the order. “Stay where you are in that other boat—no sense in putting two craft in danger. Right, Guosssom, no paddle-splashers now—nice and easy, long deep strokes, paddle over that way.”

Still balanced on Mara’s shoulders, Pikkle shaded both eyes with a paw, flopping his ears over to add to the shade. The shrews pulled well and strongly; not a spare drop of water fell from their paddle blades as the logboat glided smoothly over the lake, silent as a feather floating on the breeze. Mara stood still as the trunk of a tree as Pikkle narrowed his eyes and strove to make something of the dark shapes that shimmered in the sunlight on the surface. Suddenly his ears stood erect and he muttered out of the side of his mouth, “Log-a-log, old scout, you’ve got friends out here—somebeast is callin’ your name.”

The shrew leader looked up. “Calling my name?”

“Oh yes indeed.” Pikkle nodded. “Shall I tell you what they’re saying?” He threw back his head and shouted, “Logalogalogalog!”

Immediately Log-a-log swung into action, his deep shrew voice roaring out orders:

“It’s Guosssom shrews. They need help! You shrews in the other boat, follow us! Bend your backs, dig those paddles deep and pull! Logalogalogalogalog!”

The two logboats raced across the waters, paddles flashing as bow waves churned up and the vessels rocked from side to side. Pikkle leaped down and grabbed up his paddle to match Mara’s stroke.

*   *   *

A cheer went up from the crews of the three logboats as Samkim climbed down from the shoulders of Alfoh and Arula.

The young mole patted Samkim’s back furiously. “You’m a roight gudd shouter, Sanken. They’m ’eard ’ee, hurr hurr. Lookit, they acomen. Wot think ’ee, Alfoh, zurr?”