[Redwall 10] - The Long Patrol by Brian Jacques

Author:Brian Jacques [Jacques, Brian]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Published: 2010-10-16T00:44:25.906000+00:00

The ferret pushed him roughly aside and staggered onward. “Not here, fool. Let’s get out o’ sight farther down the

bank!”

Log-a-Log and his shrews stood watching them until they were behind a curve in the stream course. The shrew

leader stroked his short gray beard. “Hmm, what we saw ’ere t’day tells me somethin’, mates. If they could afford to

slay more’n thirty o’ their own kind, then there must be more of ’em than I thought—a whole lot more! Right, let’s get

these craft under way midstream, where the current runs swift. Watch out for a weepin’ willow grove on yore port

sides. We’ll take the back waterways an’ sidecut off to Redwall Abbey. I think I’d best warn ’em there’s trouble

comin’.”

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.

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