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The sling dropped from Martin s paw. Er, very well, thank you. How did you get here?
Oh, this way and that, old chap.
Dodge and weave, y know.
How the dickens do we ever get anywhere?
Dinny scratched his nose and stared hard at the sand-colored hares. It was hard to distinguish them
from their background.
Drubbs n oo, did ee say? he asked sleepily.
No, no. It s Trubbs, old sport.
Wother, at y service.
Haha, then I ve got to be Ffring, I suppose.
Gonff took the initiative. He saw immediately that the strange trio were friendly. He made a deep bow.
Pleased to meet you, I m sure. My name is Gonff, Prince of Mousethieves. This is our leader, Martin
the Warrior. Here we have Young Dinny, the world s best digger, with the latest addition to our little band,
Log-a-Log, a shrew and an excellent boat builder.
Paws were shaken warmly, then the three hares were invited to sit by the fire with the travelers. It
amused Martin and his friends how the hares spoke in turn.
Well, well. This is comfy. Tell us all about yourselves.
Rather! What neck of the old county are you bods from?
Live far from here, do you?
Martin explained the nature of their quest. At the mention of Bella s father, Boar the Fighter, a twinkle
passed between the eyes of the hares. The warrior continued the tale up until the time they had found the
rat on the shore.
Well, that s our story, he concluded. Now, what s yours? How do you three come to be out here in
the middle of nowhere next to a fire mountain?
Actually, that d be telling.
Er, haha. I second that, old bean.
Oh yes, quite.
Getting a straight answer from either Trubbs, Wother, or Ffring was difficult, to say the least. Gonff
tried the casual approach.
Well, you can either stay here with us, mateys, or be off about your business. We ve got to get a proper
night s sleep so that we can climb that mountain tomorrow.
The three hares shuffled about a bit, then their tone became more businesslike.
Ah, the mountain & Actually, we ve been sent down here to you.
To lead you to the mountain, y see.
Would you mind awfully coming along with us?
Log-a-Log clapped his paws in delight. Haha, now you re talking.
The hares wiggled their long ears appreciatively.
Yes, I suppose we are talking, really.
Never alone, though. Always together, you ll notice.
Silly, really, I suppose. Do hope you ll forgive us, what?
Mateys, Gonff chuckled, we ll forgive you anything if you can take us up that mountain.
Hmm, it s not actually up, don t you see.
No, it s sort of under, doncha know.
But we are glad you re coming with us, chaps.
Dinny scratched his head. Ho arr, us ns be a-commen with ee awright. But who m sent ee for uz?
You ll soon see.
I ll say you will.
Most definitely.
Martin kicked sand on the fire to extinguish it. Righto. Lead on, Trubbs, Wother and Ffring.
Oh, I say. Good show. Let s all go together.
One never leads, triple initiative, what?
Jolly good idea, chums.
As they started toward the mountain, the three hares produced strangely shaped shells. They blew into
them simultaneously, making a treble note not unlike that of three small trumpets. The sound echoed across
the stillness of the shore. Immediately the scene lit up like daylight as a huge blast of flame rose from
Salamandastron. A voice like thunder on a hot noon boomed out with an immense rumble.
Come in peace to the mountain of fire lizards!
Hearing the gigantic sound effect, Log-a-Log threw himself facedown upon the sand with both paws
over his ears, but the hares seemed hardly to notice it.
Oh, golly. Old Log-a-Thing s fallen over.
Must be in a blue funk about the boomer, eh.
I expect so. Up you get, old fellah.
It was a narrow passage between the sand and the rocks; they went in single file. At the end was a small
cave. Trubbs tugged at a concealed cord. They had to jump aside as a stout ladder clattered down from the
darkened recesses overhead.
Right. Up you go, laddie.
No, no. After you, old chap.
Oh really, I insist.
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