Samkim shook his head. “Not the action of a true forest dweller, I’d say. Still, I suppose he had his reasons. Now, we’ll bury this one and track his friend Dingeye. Huh, some friend, leaving his pal here to die like that. Can’t see the sword anywhere—Dingeye must have it. Arula, where are you?”

The little molemaid was swiftly excavating a tunnel beside Thura’s body. A shower of dark earth flew upwards as she dug in with powerful blunt claws. Before long she vanished into the hole, and the ground trembled and heaved alongside the dead stoat. Samkim blinked with surprise as she emerged from the ground near Thura’s ears. Arula dusted herself down.

“Thurr, that be done! Jus’ tip’m in with ’ee bow, Sanken.”

Samkim levered the body over with his bow. It plopped onto the tunnel top and the earth gave way. Arula covered it with the earth she had pushed out from the excavation.

“Best oi c’n do fer ’ee, pore stoater, tho’ ’ee’m wurra bad lot.”

*   *   *

Though the lunch at Redwall had only been a light summer salad and some blackberry scones, Friar Bellows found himself weary and perspiring. He left the Abbey kitchens and went to sit out by the pond where it was cool. The fat mouse took off his cap and apron and mopped his brow with a dock leaf. Thrugg came over, shaking out his shrimp net.

“Avast there, ol’ Bellers. No scones to bake for teatime?”

The Friar sat down rather heavily, shaking his head. “Oh, scones. I’ll get to ’em later. Very good, very g—D’you know, Thrugg, I feel terribly dizzy today.”

Thrugg sat down beside him. “I ’spect it’s wi’ workin’ around those hot ovens, matey.”

“No, I never lit the ovens today. Brrrr! It’s cold out here!”

The jovial otter looked at him quizzically. “Cold? It’s the middle of summer, me ’eartie. I don’t know as ’ow y’can say it’s cold when you’re all asweat.”

Bellows lay back and wiped his whiskers. “You’re right. I’m sweating but I feel cold. Those scones, must get the ovens lit. Mrs. Spinney’ll help me with the mixin’. . . . Very good, very good. . . . Hmmmm.”

*   *   *

Brother Hollyberry was shaking a blanket from the Infirmary window to freshen it when Thrugg called up to him, “Ahoy there, Brother. Friar Bellows ain’t lookin’ too chipper. D’you want me to tote him up to sickbay so’s you can give the pore mouse a look over?”

Hollyberry folded the blanket neatly. “Bring him up, Thrugg, there’s a good fellow.”

When Thrugg had gone, Hollyberry turned to a very downcast young hedgehog sitting on the edge of one of the beds.