Part 9 (1/2)

”Burr aye, 'tis creepy rounden yurr!”

The rocks were dark and slippery from the rain. Martin went in front, with Rose bringing up the rear. They kept Grumm in the middle as he was not a very good climber. Moles seldom are. Holding the paddle between them, they strove upwards, scrabbling and 93.

sometimes sliding back in the darkness. After what seemed an eternity of grappling with the wet cliff face, they rested on a narrow ledge. The three friends sat catching their second wind, listening to the tide far below as it surged and hissed along the night-cloaked sh.o.r.e.

Martin peered upwards. ”I think if we climb a little further there is a much broader ledge above us. There's bound to be some sort of cave or crevice where we can shelter.”

”Carn't oi stay yurr,” Grumm sighed wearily. ”Moi pesky ole paws be gone a-sleeping on oi.”

Rose rubbed her molefriend's paws vigorously ”Poor Grumm. Champion diggers can't be champion climbers too. Not far to go now and you can have a good sleep. I'll get breakfast tomorrow so you can have a little extra lie-in.”

This offer perked Grumm up no end. ”Burr. Thankee koindly, Miz Roser. You'm a guddbeast!”

Martin gave an involuntary s.h.i.+ver. ”There's something about this place I don't like. Still, this is where we landed up, and beggars can't be choosers. Come on.”

All three had their paws on the rim of the ledge after a short hard climb when the nets came hurling down and enveloped them. Tough, close-woven meshes of kelp, weighted down all around with stones. The friends were swept from the rock face and held dangling, their paws, tails and heads entangled in the snaring nets. Tiny dark shapes, ma.s.ses of them, jibbered and pranced on the broad ledge as they hauled their catch swiftly upwards. It was over in a flash. Martin, Rose and Grumm were landed like fishes and swiftly clubbed into unconsciousness.

Swimming up through dark mists, Martin's head lanced with pain as he opened his eyes, in bright sunlight. A stick prodded him sharply in the back.

94.

”Biggamouse wake up! Muggamug! Plennygood catchim!”

The young mouse opened his eyes fully and saw he was boxed inside a stout wooden cage. Tiny mouselike creatures with long wiggling snouts surrounded the cage. They danced up and down with excitement. One more venturesome than the rest darted forward and jabbed Martin's paw with a sharpened stick.

”Gotcha gotcha, Biggamouse! Higgig! Notso big-ganow!”

The young mouse reacted speedily. With a swipe he snapped the stick, baring his teeth savagely as he gripped the wooden bars.

”Gerroutofit, you jibbering little idiots, and leave me alone!”

He shouted so loudly that the tiny creatures scattered like chaff before the wind, clapping paws over their ears.

Martin glared through the cage at them, growling fiercely, ”Keep your distance, or I'll eat you all!”

He clashed his teeth several times, sending fresh pain waves through his throbbing head. Rubbing a sizeable b.u.mp on the back of his skull, Martin looked around and took stock of his position.

His cage was in the entrance to a large cave. On the opposite wall he could see two other wooden cages, in which the senseless forms of Rose and Grumm lay More of the tiny creatures pa.s.sed, giving him a wide berth. They were carrying several fish which had been lashed to driftwood poles-smelts, shannies and b.u.t.terfish they had brought up from the sh.o.r.e.

Behind them, carrying nets and fis.h.i.+ng gear, came a hedgehog. His footpaws had been bound to a heavy log that he was forced to tow in his wake. Martin shook the cage bars, calling to him.

”Hey! What is this place and who are all these little wretches?”

The hedgehog gave Martin a quick smile and a friendly wink. ”I'm Pallum. Be still. I'll get back to you.”

95.

He was urged on by more little creatures following up the rear.

”Urryurry, pinpiggy. Mouthashut!”

As they pa.s.sed into the recesses of the cave, Grumm stirred. ”Burr oo! Moi pore ole 'ead, et be b.u.mpen an' a-bangen orfully.”

The sound of the mole's voice seemed to waken Rose. Immediately she was up on her paws, and despite her aching head she battered and tugged at the bars of her cage.

”Let me out of here this instant, d'you hear. Let me out!”

Grumm held paws over his ears. ”Hurr, doant ee make such a gurt noise, mizzy. You'm 'urtin' moi brains.”

Martin was relieved his friend had suffered no permanent damage. ”Grumm's right, Rose. Best lie still. How do you feel?”

The mousemaid managed a wan smile. ”Apart from being caged up with an ache in my head and a b.u.mp like a thrush's egg, plus a raging thirst and an empty stomach, I feel fine. How are you this morning?”

Martin grinned wryly. ”Actually, I feel pretty silly. Wait until you see the beasts who did this to us.”

As if on cue, several of the tiny creatures materialized out of the dimness at the rear of the cave.

Grumm nodded. ”Pigmy shrews. Oi moight 'ave knowed!”

”Pigmy shrews?” Martin echoed the name ques-tioningly.

The hedgehog came lumbering up to them, surrounded by pigmy shrews. They chattered ceaselessly in their odd dialect, some of them sitting impudently on the hedgehog's towing log, their ride adding to the burden he dragged along. It did not seem to bother him unduly. He smiled in a foolish, disarming way.

”h.e.l.lo there. It's me, Pallum. Listen, never look angry in front of pigmy shrews. Smile all the time. It confuses them.”

96.

Martin pasted a large grin on his face as he introduced himself and his friends. The shrews were never still, hopping, jumping, dancing and gabbling on in an unintelligible manner. The one who had jabbed Martin with a stick began to do it once more. The young mouse dodged this way and that to avoid the sharp wood, grinning furiously as he spoke from between clenched teeth.

”Pallum, let me tell you something, friend. In a moment I'm going to grab that stick and stuff it up that little wretch's long squiggly excuse for a nose!”

Pallum shook his head smilingly. ”It'd be the worst day's work you ever did, Martin. These are babies- squidjees is their proper t.i.tle. The tiny sc.u.m poking you with the stick is the worst brat of all. That's Dinjer, one and only son and heir to Amballa, Queen of the pigmy shrews. She'd have you killed for sure if you laid paw on her little darling. Wait a moment, I think I can stop him.”

Turning to the offender, Pallum addressed him in pigmy shrew language. ”Higgig, Dinjer, goodagood, you pokeymore biggamouse!”

Dinjer stopped instantly and began trying vainly to belabor Pallum's spiky hide with the stick.

”Pinpiggy shuttamouth! Notell Dinjer whattadoo!”

Pallum chuckled as the infant flailed unsuccessfully at his spikes. ”Contrary little snips. Best way to stop 'em is to encourage them. They'll always do the opposite to what you want, specially this one.”

Rose wiped a paw across her parched lips. ”Pallum, is there any chance of us getting some food and water?”

A tiny drum sounded from within the cave. Pallum held up a paw. ”That'll be the Queen, Amballa. When you speak to her, bow your head and call her Ballamum. Be very respectful. She's vindictive and all powerful round here. Don't mention the word higgig-that means you are laughing, and she might think you were laughing at her. Please do as I say and leave the rest to me.”

97.

Amballa was a plump little figure. She wore golden pantaloons and a cloak of light blue. On her head was a coronet studded with bright sh.e.l.l pieces and small polished beach pebbles. A seagull feather stuck up at the back of it. Had she not been such an important personage the three friends would have burst out laughing at the comical sight she made.

Drawing herself up to the peak of her minuscule height, she pointed a tiny sword at Martin.