The arrival of a cool summer morning did not make the gorge look any less wide.

Jabez Spike shook his head despairingly. “’Twould be simpler to float a stone across a river than to get all these creatures across that great dark pit.”

Breakfast was frugal and the water ration had run low. They ate and drank in silence. Basil Stag Hare looked longingly at the bushes and vegetation on the opposite side.

“I’ll wager there’s tender young plants and lots of water over there, wot?” he said wistfully.

Cheek gulped his water ration in a single swig. “Wish you’d stop goin’ on about food’n’water, Basil. Otters need water more than some old dried up twig of a hare, y’know.”

Orlando strolled moodily round the blackened stakes that had held the bridge. “That fox! He really thought of everything, didn’t he?”

Jess had a faraway look in her eyes. She stroked her tail thoughtfully before peering over the edge of the gorge.

“Hmm, chopped the bridge off completely at both sides, did he? Hmm. Matthias, do you think our owl friend could fly down into the ravine and cast his eye about for the remains of the bridge? I’ve got an idea.”

Matthias looked inquiringly at Sir Harry. The owl stretched his impressive wings.

The sunlight shone through his outspread wings as he executed a graceful soaring motion. Diving swiftly, he was soon lost to view within the dark abyss.

Jess instructed Orlando on the next part of her plan.

“Lend me your battleaxe, big fellow. Oof! On second thought, you hold it. Now do as I tell you. Stand it upright against those stakes which held the bridge. Good! Log-a-Log, could you bring some rope?”

The shrew leader rummaged about until he found a small coil. “Here’s your rope, but there isn’t enough to get us a fraction of the way across that gap.”

Jess uncoiled the rope. “I have no intention of trying to cross with this piece, Orlando. Hold the axe still while I lash it to the stakes.”

Sir Harry reappeared over the edge.

Jess secured the axe bolt upright. “Well done! I knew a long wiggly thing like a rope bridge couldn’t fall far without getting caught on something. I don’t want the slats; they’re not part of my plan. Can you bring me one of the long ropes? Do you need a knife?”

Sir Harry blinked indignantly.

With a hoot and a whoosh he shot back into the depths.

Jess shrugged apologetically. “Hope I haven’t offended him.”

*   *   *

Slagar glanced around nervously. They were passing through pleasant brush country, mainly bushes and shrubs, with the odd tree dotted here and there. The whole area gave Mattimeo the impression that once long ago it had been gardened, cared for and cultivated. He walked in line with his friends, along what appeared to have been the path of a terrace. Flowers still grew in clumps, and rocks ran in a straight line, probably bedded there by some industrious creatures in the dim past.

Tess spoke into his ear from behind, the sudden sound causing Mattimeo to jump slightly.

“Why are there no birds singing?” she asked.

The young mouse was mystified. “You’re right, Tess. I couldn’t say what made me uneasy about this place at first, but you’ve put your paw slap on it! There’s no sound, no noise of grasshoppers, birds, the things you’d normally expect to hear on a bright summer’s day. Even Slagar doesn’t look too happy with this place.”

Tess clinked her chain manacles gently. The sound hung on the still air.

“It is beautiful though. I’d like to stop and sit here awhile. Do you know, it reminds me somehow of our Abbey. Look, there are ripe berry bushes over there, and daisies and roses too.”

Sam, who was in the front, stared ahead into the distance. “I can see two tall rocks shaped like a badger’s head and a big bell.”

“Silence back there, or you won’t live to see nightfall. Pick those paws up and march faster!”

Vitch obeyed unconsciously, speeding up until he overtook his leader.

Slagar cuffed him bad-temperedly. “Where d’you think you’re running to? Get back and watch those prisoners, and keep from under my paws, rat.”

*   *   *

Orlando looked doubtfully at the contraption Jess had set up. High over his head the thick bridge rope was fastened to his axe top. The rope ran out across the abyss, taking a steep downward slope until it reached the stakes on the far side, where Sir Harry had secured it close to ground level. The big badger scratched his muzzle.

“How’s it supposed to work, Jess?” he asked dubiously.

“Quite simply. Matthias, would you go first and show him?”

The warrior mouse shinnied swiftly up the stakes. Removing his belt, he swung it over the rope with one paw, catching the other end as it came down. He stood with his paws twined in the belt that hung either side of the bridge rope.

“Ready, Jess,” he called.

The squirrel climbed up and gave him a good push.

Whizzing across the gorge from the rope lashed around the axehead, Matthias sped on a straight downward course, lifting his tail clear as he hit the other side in a cloud of dust. He jumped to his paws, waving triumphantly. Log-a-Log and his shrews cheered aloud.

Jess turned to Orlando with a smile. “That’s how!”

“I’m not sure, Jess. I might be too big and heavy.”

“Then you can go next to last,” the squirrel said decisively.

“Who’s going last?”

“Me, of course. You want your axe back, don’t you? Right then. I’ll untie the rope, lash your axe to my back and swing across. Don’t worry, I’m a good treeflyer. I’ll go straight down into the gorge on the end of the rope, stop myself against the opposite wall and climb up.”

Orlando wiped a dusty paw across his brow. “I’m glad it’s you and not me trying that. By the way, please take care not to lose my battleaxe down there.”

“Oh, stop fussing, you great lump, and help that shrew up on to the rope.”

*   *   *

Jess’s plan worked well and the operation went smoothly, though with one or two minor hitches. Sir Harry was kept busy flying to and fro to borrow belts for those who had none. When Orlando’s turn came he persevered bravely. However, his size and weight caused the axe handle to bend and the rope to belly. The badger was stuck in the middle, hanging perilously over the abyss. He was moved by Matthias and his friends throwing their weight on and off the rope until it began to twang and vibrate, and Orlando moved slowly along it. At the edge, he had to be hauled over the brink by Basil, Cheek and several shrews. When it was her turn to go, last of all, Jess the champion squirrel of Redwall did the crossing in swashbuckling style. Untying the rope, she bound Orlando’s axe to her back and leapt straight into the gorge, grasping the end of the bridge rope. Down she sped, suddenly snapping to a halt, then with practised skill she swung across and bounded up the rope, paw over paw.

“Here, Orlando,” she panted, “hurry and get this clumping great hatchet off my back. I can’t stand straight with the weight of it.”

“I’ll leave you tied to it if you call it a hatchet again, squirrel.”

*   *   *

The pool among the bushes was like a cool oasis. They washed the dust off, bathing and splashing in the clear water. All save Jabez Stump, who sat munching cow parsley.

“’Tain’t natural, bathin’, otherwise we’d have all been born fishes,” the hedgehog objected.

The foragers found plenty of berries, fruit and plants, even a crabapple tree laden with tiny golden crabapples. The friends lounged about, eating and dozing, almost reluctant to leave this haven of plenty.

Log-a-Log nibbled wild celery as he made his report to Matthias.

“The scouts have picked up the trail, going south as usual. It’s easy to follow.”

Matthias nodded, studying the map and the poem. “Aye, it looks like plain travelling. There’s no obstacle ahead, unless you count these two rocks, the badger and the bell!”