“Yah, serves ’im right. Anyhow, maybe Thura’s got better and gone off on his own. That stoat never really liked me, ’e weren’t no proper mucker. Bad luck to him, I says. Besides all that, who needs a mucker wi’ a sword like this’n?”

He swung the fabulous blade and chopped off an overhanging branch. It fell, tangling his paws and tripping him. Growling curses, he slashed and hacked at the offending branch.

“Yowhoo! Yaha! Owch, that ’urt!”

Dingeye’s clumsy attack on the harmless foliage had caused him to wound himself on the left footpaw with the razor-keen sword. He dropped the weapon and sat rocking back and forth as he tried to bend double and lick his injured limb.

“Urgh! That’ll be Thura, wherever ’e is, wishin’ bad luck on me, ’is old mucker who never did ’im any wrong nor wished him ill, not once. That Thura was allus a nasty one!”

Casting about, he found a large dockleaf and improvised a dressing for the paw. Staunching the blood with a pawful of leaf mold, he bound the lot with a thin weed stem. Using the sword as a walking stick, he set off again, gnawing on a wrinkled apple and feeling sorry for himself.

“Just fancy, bein’ wished bad fortune by me mucker who’s deserted me. Life’s ’ard an’ cruel fer a pore stoat who’s all alone an’ wounded.”

*   *   *

Samkim and Arula had also encountered an unlucky setback. Tracking steadily, the pair were making good progress when they came to an area that Dingeye had not chopped at with his sword. Casting about this way and that, they hunted for signs that would help them to pick up the stoat’s trail. Arula rummaged about in a yew thicket until Samkim gave an excited shout:

“Over here, Arula. Look, blood!”

The young mole scurried across to find her friend sitting among a heap of slashed twigs and branches. He pointed to the scarlet stains on the leaves.

“He’s been here, all right. See the stoat pawprints—who else could it be? I suspect this is his blood too. Yes, Dingeye’s passed this way. What d’you think?”

Arula turned the leaves over with heavy digging claws. “Yurr, so ’e ’as. Oi wunner wot yon stoater wurr a-bleedin’ for, Sanken?”

The young squirrel wiped his paws on the ground. “Who knows? Dingeye can’t be too far ahead now, though. What d’you say we rest here awhile and have a meal, then we can put on a good forced march and catch him up?”

Arula agreed readily at the mention of food. “Ho urr, gudd idea. Oi’m fair famishered. But us’ns sit o’er thurr, away from all this stoater bludd.”