“Some’ow I knew you’d say somethin’ like that.” The otter sighed. “Wait over there.” He pointed toward a clump of small trees. Not the bushes where Weegee had been dragged.
They did as he bid, waiting for what seemed like an hour but was only a few minutes. Jon-Tom was about to suggest going after him when he reappeared, moving silently through the darkness, his own pack on his back and Jon-Tom’s trailing along behind him. Jon-Tom winced every time the sack containing the pieces of duar bounced off the ground.
“Couldn’t you have been a little more careful with that?” He grabbed the backpack’s straps and swung it onto his shoulders.
“Do tell? You ought to be grateful I risked me life to sneak back for that lousy sack o’ kindlin’.”
“I am, because you’re the only one I know who could have done it.”
“Oh, well, since you put it that way. I expect I am. Anyone else would ’ave woken the lot of them.”
At about that time a shout rose from the pirate encampment, followed by a couple of sleepy queries.
“Would have, eh?” Weegee smacked him across the snout. Mudge slapped her back and Jon-Tom and Cautious had to forcibly separate the two lovers.
“Ain’t got time for this, you bet,” Cautious chided them. Jon-Tom was trying to peer into the woods as the alarm spread slowly through the brigands’ camp.
“Which way? Toward the beach?”
“I doen know the beach. I know the woods.” The raccoon pointed southward. “We go that way.”
At first the cries and shouts of the pirates faded behind them, but soon they gained in strength.
“Following for sure.” Mudge scampered alongside Jon-Tom. “I ’ave this uncomfortable feelin’ they won’t be so quick to give up on us this time. We’ve embarrassed ’em once too often.”
“I agree.” Jon-Tom ducked a low-hanging branch, felt the wood scrape the top of his scalp. “I’m afraid Sasheem will prevail.”
“They won’t take us alive.” Weegee kicked a bush aside. “Think we can outrun ’em?”
“I don’t know.” He glanced skyward worriedly. “I wonder if Kamaulk’s wing is healed enough for him to fly. I didn’t notice any other avians in the crew.”
“Lucky break.” Mudge leaped a rivulet. “Be ’ard put to spot us at night through these trees anyway.”
At times the pirate’s cries would drift away, only to return stronger than ever as one of their number picked up the tracks of the escapees. Once they splashed down a shallow stream and temporarily lost their pursuers completely, only to have them eventually pick up the trail yet again. Cautious tried every trick he knew, but the pirates persisted. This time they wouldn’t tuck their tails between their legs and give up. And if they couldn’t shake them at night, Jon-Tom knew, they’d have twice the trouble losing them in the daytime.
He was tired already. His heart pounded against his ribs and his legs felt like silly putty. Even Mudge and Weegee were showing signs of exhaustion. Not even an otter can run forever.
Suddenly Jon-Tom stopped, nearly stumbling. Mudge crashed into him from behind and wheezed angrily up at his friend.
“Wot’s the matter with you, mate? Come on, we’ve got to keep movin’.”
“Hold on a minute.”
“We ain’t got many minutes.”
Jon-Tom ignored this as he moved curiously to his left. Mudge looked back into the woods, then at his companion.
“Are you daft, lad? Wot is it you’re ’untin’ for?”
“Don’t you feel it?”
“Feel wot?”
“Something our friends are likely to overlook.” He was pushing leaves and branches aside now, let out an exclamation of satisfaction when he found what he was looking for.
A cool, slightly damp breeze emerged from beneath a rocky ledge.
“There’s got to be a cave down there. Pretty big one, too, judging from the strength of the wind coming out. Maybe we can’t lose them up here, but I think they’ll be less likely to come looking for us below, even if they’re lucky enough to find this opening.” He started scanning the forest floor. “Find something we can make torches out of.”
There was plenty of dried moss. Wrapped around branches, these made serviceable faggots.
“How do we light them?” Weegee had already searched her clothing. “I don’t have any flints with me. Can you sing a fire spell?”
“No, but I’ve got these.” He fumbled in his pack. Sure enough, he had four matches left of the box he’d been carrying when Clothahump had first yanked him into this world. Saying a silent prayer, he struck the first alight. He was greatly relieved when the moss on the first torch caught instantly.
Weegee was wide-eyed. “If not magic, what do you call that?”
“Matches. I’ll explain later.” He touched the lit torch to the others. “Come on. If I fit, everyone’ll fit.”
Cautious stepped in front of him. “My eyes are better in the dark than anyone else’s here, you bet. I go first. You follow, Jon-Tom, stay close to my tail. Maybe if I fall in big hole, you got something to grab. If not, I warn you before I bounce.” He grinned, clapped the man on the shoulder, then turned and ducked lithely beneath the ledge. Jon-Tom followed as Mudge and Weegee brought up the rear.
The cave sloped steadily downward, a claustrophobic tube. Jon-Tom began to wonder if this had been such a bright idea. His palms were rubbing raw on the slick, unyielding limestone.
Without warning the ceiling rose and everyone was able to stand. Torches revealed a graveled path leading steadily onward.
Weegee surveyed the dark tunnel ahead. “Isn’t this far enough? I’m not very fond of deep places.”
“Are you fond o’ bein’ slowly skinned alive?” Mudge nodded back the way they’d come. “If they do find the openin’ they’re liable to hear our voices or see the light from these torches. The farther we go the safer we’ll be.”
