The Long Patrol by Brian Jacques

Author:Brian Jacques [Jacques, Brian]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
ISBN: 9781448158416
Publisher: Random House
Published: 1997-01-01T08:00:00+00:00

30

Algador Swiftback cast a fleeting glance backward as he marched on into the gathering evening. “Whew! I say, we’ve covered a fair old stretch today. Salamandastron’s completely out o’ sight!”

Drill Sergeant Clubrush’s voice growled close to his ear. “The mountain might be out o’ sight, laddie buck, but I’m not! No talkin’ in the ranks there, keep pickin’ those paws up an’ puttin”em down. Left right, left right, left right ...”

More than five hundred hares of the Long Patrol, some veterans but mainly new recruits, tramped eastward into the dusk, with Lady Cregga Rose Eyes, axpike on shoulder, always far ahead.

The lolloping young hare named Trowbaggs still had difficulty in learning to march properly. He put his left paw down when everybeast was on their right, and vice versa, and for the umpteenth time that day he stumbled, treading on the foot-paws of the hare marching in front.

“Oops! Sorry, old chap, the blinkin’ footpaws y’know, get-tin’ themselves mixed up again, right left, right left ...”

Deodar shook her head in despair as she watched him. Trowbaggs, y’great puddenhead, it’s left right, not right

Clubrush’s stentorian voice rang out over the marchers: “Long Patrol—halt! Stand still everybeast—that means you too, Trowbaggs, you ’orrible liddle beast!”

Thankfully, the marching lines halted, standing to attention until the order was given.

“First Regiment, stand at ease! Water an’ wood foragers fall out! Duty cooks, take up chores! Lance Corporal Ellbrig, pick out yore sentries for first watch! The remainder of you, lay out y’packs an’ groundsheets, check all weapons an’ arms! Four neat rows now, clear away any nettles an’ prickles over f there—that’s yore campsite for tonight, you lucky lot!”

Hares dashed hither and thither on their various duties as Sergeant and Lance Corporal roared out orders. In a short time, military precision resulted in camp being set up.

Algador sat with his companions by the shallows of a small pond, everybeast cooling off their footpaws and resting on their packs.

urgale lay flat on his back, complaining to the stars: “Oh, my auntie’s bonnet! I thought ol’ Clubrush was goin’ to march us all bally night. Look, there’s steam risin’ out of the water where I’m dippin’ me pore old paws!”

The Sergeant’s tone was almost an outraged squeal. “Get those dirty great sweaty dustridden paws out o’ that water! It’s for drinkin’, not sloshin’ about in. Trowbaggs, what’n the name o’ seasons are you up to, bucko?”

“Wrappin’ m’self up in me groundsheet, Sarge. Good

Veins stood out on the Sergeant’s brow as he roared at the s blunderer, “Sleepin’? Who said you could sleep, sah? Get that equipment cleaned, lay out yore mess kit, line up for Stopper! Forget sleep. Trowbaggs, stay awake! Yore on second f;’: Trowbaggs groaned aloud as he searched in the dark for his mess kit. “Somebeast’s pinched me flippin’ spoon. Oh, Mother, I want to go home. Save me from all this, I wasn’t Hgptout for it, wot!”

“Never mind, scout,” a kindly older hare named Shangle fidepad whispered to him, “it gets worse before it gets jolly well better.

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