lemme go,

Slipp drew himself up haughtily, about to protest when the badger seized him by one ear and shook him. "You are a cheat and a liar! You've never cooked in your life! When you've cleared this lot up I want to see you out in the kitchens. Scrub all the pots and pans and spread rose-water round until every trace of skilly an* duff, sight or smell, is gone!" "Yowowow, lemme go, stripedog! Ooch ouch!" Brothers Fingle and Mallen took over cooking duties, and a satisfactory lunch of summer salad, cheeses, and apple pie with meadowcreain brought the Abbey back onto an even keel. The day wore on, warm, sunny and still; bees droned lazily from flower to flower. Redwallers went on with their daily chores, tending crop and orchard, harvesting honey, reading and studying, or helping with the upkeep of Abbey buildings. Tranquillity was the keynote, with the high green mantle of Mossflower shading the outer walls on three sides, leaving the west ramparts open to sunny flatlands where larks sang and grasshoppers chirruped. Toward mid-noon Blaggut put the finishing touches to a pair of boats he had made by halving an old cider barrel lengthways. The searat was proud of a previously unknown skill he had discovered that day梑oatbuilding. He had sawed the barrel neatly from top to bottom, making two butt-ended little vessels. A cask lid cut in half provided two keels for balance. Inside the boats he wedged short, flat planks for seats. Two big ash staves served as masts, with a third, cut in half, completing the cross spars, 272 BRIAN JACQUES from which hung twin, much-patched sails. They had done sterling service as tablecloths and were donated by Sister Sage. The mousebabe and Furrtil the molemaid scurried round the searat's footpaws, squeaking excitedly. "Which un's mine, Blackguts, sir?"