I’d rather have one of those.’

So take my heart and leave me that tart,

But my mouth I won’t take off,

Because, I plead, it’s a mouth I’ll need

To eat all that bally scoff!”

The burgeoning sunlight lifting flagging spirits, they stepped out with a will, the golden eagle flying low in front of them as they chanted aloud.

“Redwall! Log-a-log! Redwall! Guosssom! Redwall! Log-a-log! Redwall! Guosssom!”

*   *   *

Abbess Vale rubbed her eyes and looked about suspiciously. It was midmorning and they were still bumping along the dusty brown path in the cart. She rapped on the side sharply.

“Thrugg, where are you taking us? I haven’t been this far for seasons, but I recognize the country. We’re well past Saint Ninian’s!”

Thrugg muttered something unintelligible under his breath and quickened his pace. Faith Spinney awakened suddenly.

“Eh, what’s that, m’dear? What’s a Log-a-log?”

The jolting of the cart was not doing much for Vale’s mood. “Log-a-log? I never said anything about a Log-a-log. What are you chunnering on about, Faith Spinney?”

Faith held up a paw. “Stop, please, Mr. Thrugg. Sssshh, listen!”

Thrugg halted the cart. All three creatures listened carefully. On the still morning air the sound drifted up to them from farther down beyond a bend in the path.

“Redwall! Log-a-log! Redwall! Guosssom!”

Slow to catch on, Faith Spinney shook her head. “What sort of beast d’you reckon a Gossen is, Vale? Who’s making all that noise, anyway?”

A large smile was spreading across the Abbess’s face. She leaned over and patted Thrugg on the back. “It’s Arula and Samkim, I know it is. Forward with all speed, Thrugg. Charge!”

*   *   *

As they rounded the bend, Samkim saw the cloud of dust approaching and heard the rattle of the cart.

Ever vigilant, Log-a-log yelled out to his shrews, “Bows and slings ready, somebeast is coming this way fast!”

But Samkim and Arula had recognized Thrugg and the occupants of the cart, who were standing up, cloaks flying in the breeze. “It’s the Abbess and Mrs. Spinney and Thrugg! Good old Thrugg! Come on Arula!”

They dashed off toward the oncoming cart, Faith Spinney could be heard crying shrilly, “Oh, my dears, it’s Samkim an’ Arula! Oh, my spikes! Oh, those young rascals! Oh, see them, Vale, see them. An’ young Master Samkim a-wavin’ that great sword aloft! My life an’ great acorns! ’Tis the sword of Martin! Look, he’s brought it back to us!”

Everybeast cheered wildly and tears sprang unbidden to the eyes of Abbess Vale at the sight of the young squirrel, now a fully fledged warrior wielding the great blade in the sunlight.

Thrugg made the little cart bounce and leap from the path as he dashed at top speed, laughing wildly. “Haharr haharr, I knew it were you two young villains. Samkim! Arula! It’s me yer old matey Thruggo!”