Eno Raud Fellows BOOK TWO divesEno Raud Three Jolly Fellows BOOK TWO TALLINN : PERIOODIKA 1983E RIDE ILLUSTRATED BY EDGAR VALTER TRANSLATED BY EVI MANNERMAA Eesti Reamat, Tallinn 1974 Translation into English. Perioodika 1983 The Haunts of Halfshoe’s Childhood The small red van stopped at a road fork. “Which road should we take?” asked Muff, who was sitting behind the wheel. Halfshoe and Mossbeard looked out of the window. "It seems we have two possibilities,” said Halfshoe. “The more difficult it is for us to decide which way to take,” remarked Mossbeard. "If we had only one possibility it would be much simpler.” They were in a rather complicated situation indeed. "We must consider the matter thoroughly,” decided Muff, and switched off the engine. The right fork curved its way deep into a wood, the left one led to a village. Towering over the village there was a high hill with picturesque castle ruins at the very top. “It must be lovely in the woods," said Mossbeard thought- fully. “I feel a familiar midsummer itch in my beard. It means that the sheltered clearings must now be full of beautiful red strawberries.” “| have nothing against strawberries," said Muff. “Still, the castle ruins look breath-takingly beautiful from down here. And I'm sure that besides beauty they also have historical value which would be interesting to find out.”Halfshoe had begun to fidget. "To tell the truth, my sense of beauty is rather poorly developed,” he said. “And | haven't been particularly interested in history either. However, these ruins affect me.” "How do they affect you?” asked Mossbeard. Halfshoe shrugged his shoulders, then looked towards the wood, and went on, “The woods affect me exactly in the same way as the ruins do, and | must admit that it is an unusual feeling.” He opened the door and stepped out. Both his friends followed him, puzzled. "Is this feeling good or bad?” asked Muff. Halfshoe couldn't exactly say. “\ don't know how to put it, he said. “It makes me happy and sad at the same time. | don't know what if is but I'm strongly affected.” With a far-away expression on his face Halfshoe looked around him. Suddenly he stopped and stared. “Look!” he whispered pointing to the field by the road. Muff and Mossbeard turned their heads. "Aren't they... Aren't they...” Muff was very much alarmed. He felt his legs become weak, and he had to sit down by the roadside. "4. rats," Mossbeard finished the sentence for him. There could be no mistake about it—they were indeed rats. In the low grass hundreds of rats were heading towards the castle ruins. Closely together they scurried along, most of them holding something between their teeth—a chunk of bread or cheese, a scrap of cloth or leather, a lump of meat. The tail-end of the procession were lying on their backs, holding an egg between their paws, and other rats pulled them along by their tails. "They're returning from a raid," murmured Halfshoe. “Quite a loot they're carrying there.” Fortunately, the rats did not pay much attention to themidgets. Only a few happened to cast a sharp glance at them. “They have clever eyes,” remarked Mossbeard. By then Muff was able to speak again. "There's nothing so horrid as evil wisdom.” The pack of rats had reached the rye-field and were disappear- ing into it. "| wonder where they're going to?” Mossbeard was talking to himself. “Where are they taking all that loot?" "To the castle ruins, of course,” cried Halfshoe, and his face lit up. “I've got it now!” ‘Muff and Mossbeard looked at him questioningly. "These are the rats of my childhood,” explained Halfshoe eagerly. “My dear friends, here are the haunts of my childhood. How often | have wandered about these fields and meadows in my thoughts, and now | am here at last! | was born here. | grew up here. Strange, that | didn’t recognize the land of my childhood.” “But you said, everything here affected you somehow, didn’t you?" Mossbeard said. "Yes," answered Halfshoe, nodding happily. “It was a strong feeling indeed. Oh childhood, sweet childhood! It went past so quickly. Oh childhood—so close, and yet so far away!” Muff and Mossbeard were deeply moved. They had never heard Halfshoe speak with such a feeling. In the meantime the rats had disappeared into the rye-field and the meadow looked as peaceful as before. "Well?" asked Halfshoe. "What next?” “Now that our travels have brought us here so unexpectedly, we might as well look around the old haunts of your childhood,” suggested Mossbeard. "But the rats?” worried Muff. “I must admit these creatures really threw me off my balance.” Mossbeard looked at Muff in silence. "| know how you feel,” he said, after a pause. “To think of it, rats are certainly no adornment to nature. Fortunately 6 there are various ways to help restore your peace of mind. | think a cup of soothing tea may help you best. We'll take one portion of caraway seeds, two portions of marsh trefoil leaves, and three portions of valerian roots. This is all we need.” "You don't want to say that all these grow in your beard!” asked Muff doubifully. “Not really,” answered Mossbeard with a chuckle. "But what are the woods for?” “Right!” cried Halfshoe. “Let's go to the woods. Heavens, it's a long time since | romped about in my childhood woods." They got into the van. "What about the rats?” asked Muff with a sigh. “You needn't worry about them,” Halfshoe said to his friend reassuringly. “After a raid rats won't come out of the ruins for a long time. It used to be like that in my childhood and I'm sure it’s still the same." Muff switched on the engine. We Se BoAndy the Adder Muff parked the van in a meadow, on the edge of the wood, and the three midgets went to find plants for the tea. Mossbeard looked about him attentively. “There are many kinds of plants in this wood to my mind,” he remarked with satisfaction. “I hope here we'll find every- thing we need.” “The fresh forest air alone has a soothing effect on me,” said Muff, taking deep breaths. “After a drink of that soothing tea I'll certainly be my own self again.” With a wistful look on his face, Halfshoe was mentally measuring bushes and trees, trying to find out how much they had grown since he was a child. It wasn't a simple task by any means because he had also increased in height, although moderately! The stones and tree stumps, however, did not look so big and mighty as they were in his childhood. “Every step of the ground is familiar to me,” said Halfshoe, and his voice grew sad. “Familiar, but at the same time, | don't seem to know it any more.” “Everything changes," said Mossbeard and nodded. "This is the law of nature. Even the stars in the sky are not ever- lasting.” Slowly the three midgets walked deeper into the wood. It was a lovely walk on a lovely summer day. Now and then 8 they stopped to look at the ants go busily about their work, or to watch squirrels chase each other in the tree-tops, or fo listen to the woodpecker. Once they came across a big grouse who, scared of them, fluttered into the air. Another fime they saw a hedgehog under a bush rolled into a ball, ready to defend itself. From time to time Mossbeard explained where this or that particular plant would grow best. “You won't find the caraway in marshy places," he said. “It likes dry brushwood or the roadside. But if you happen to come across a small creek you may be sure to find the marsh trefoil and valerian.” Mossbeard’s instructions turned out to be very useful when they reached the wet banks of a small creek. “Oho!” called Muff suddenly. “Although I’m not an expert on nature study, something inside tells me that the plant with pink blossoms growing there is probably the marsh trefoil.” "It certainly is," nodded Mossbeard with satisfaction. “Now you go and pluck the leaves.” Muff had hardly had time to pluck the first leaf when Halfshoe said, "| recognize many wild plants but | know only the dandelion and valerian by name. If you please, there's the valerian for you.” With long strides he approached a bushy plant. Mossbeard was about fo open his mouth to praise him when a horrible shriek pierced the air. It was so horrible that both Mossbeard and Muff froze and stood there like two pillars of salt. Quite the opposite thing happened to Halfshoe—he was thrown into the air with such a force as if he had stepped on a mine. In desperation he rushed to Mossbeard and hid under his friend's beard. “What's the matter, dear?” asked Mossbeard in a trembling voice. But Halfshoe was trembling all over and was not able to utter a word.Muff, too, stepped nearer, quickly tucking the last trefoil leaves into his muff. “Something moves there in the grass," he whispered anxious- ly. Mossbeard gave a start. "In the grass? Where?" “In the same place where Halfshoe shot up," Muff explained. “You say something moves there in the grass," Mossbeard repeated Muff's words, and a thoughtful frown appeared on his brow. “What could it be, | wonder.” Mossbeard had almost recovered from the shock but Halfshoe was still trembling under his beard as violently as before. “Stop it now, will you," he scolded Halfshoe. “Firstly, with this behaviour you lose all your self-respect and secondly, it makes my beard shake as if | were an old man." "But it is...” stammered Halfshoe with great effort, “it. it is an adder wriggling there in the grass. | stepped on it, honestly, | did.” Mossbeard’s voice grew stern. "You stepped on the adder," he cried reproachfully and pushed Halfshoe away from under his protective beard. "Where were your eyes, you thoughtless creature!” He hurried to where the grass was moving. The next moment he was bending over the adder and talking fo it gently, "Oh, dear, that silly Halfshoe has really stepped on you. That's why you are wriggling. He must've hurt you with his horrible bare toes. It was very clumsy of him indeed. But he didn't do it on purpose. We'll forgive Halfshoe, won't we?" Muff sidled up to Halfshoe and asked in a whisper, “Did the snake bite you?” "No," Halfshoe whispered back. “But he certainly would have. That jump | made at the last moment saved me.” “You were lucky,” said Muff with relief. But at the next moment he looked horrified. “Look what Mossbeard is doing!” 10 "Oh dear!" exclaimed Halfshoe. “Watch out, Mossbeard!” shouted Muff. Mossbeard had taken the adder into his hands and was blowing on him soothingly. Taking no notice of his anxious friends he muttered in a soft voice, “IIL soon be better, little one, Andy will feel well again before the day is done.” “Why do you call him Andy?" asked Muff, who was taking great pains to pull himself together. "But he looks like an Andy, doesn't he?” Mossbeard smiled at the other two. “In my opinion this name suits him very well.” Saying this, he calmly slipped the adder into his pocket. “Come now, you don't plan to take him along!" protested Halfshoe, turning pale. "| don't see why not," retorted Mossbeard with a frown. “When nature herself holds adders in her lap why can't one of them live peacefully in my pocket for a couple of weeks!” “A couple of weeks?” Muff stammered. “Yes, sir,” said Mossbeard decidedly. "A couple of weeks or so, until he has fully recovered.” Muff and Halfshoe realized that unfortunately there was no way of persuading Mossbeard to change his mind. “| wish we had a cup of that soothing tea now," murmured Halfshoe and pulled out the whole valerian plant. On their way back to the van Mossbeard was leading the way, with Muff and Halfshoe following him at a respectful distance.Halfshoe Feels Annoyed Having returned to the van the midgets brewed a large pot- ful of soothing tea for themselves. As soon as the tea had cooled a bit they drank it at once, without even putting sugar in it. “We'll have to wait now until it works," said Mossbeard. They waited for quite a while. Neither Muff nor Halfshoe showed any signs of becoming calmer. On the contrary, they kept casting anxious glances in the direction of Mossbeard’s pocket which was clearly moving. It wasn't before Mossbeard announced that he was going to the village to get some milk, that Muff and Halfshoe did relax a little. “Well, well,” said Muff, smiling faintly. “I thought you only liked tea and fruit juice but now it turns out that...” “you are also a milk-drinker," said Halfshoe, finishing the sentence for Muff. "You are dense,” snapped Mossbeard. “The milk won't be for me.” “For whom then?” asked Halfshoe. Mossbeard’s voice rose slightly. “For Andy, of course," he retorted. “Do you consider it improper if poor Andy gets a few sips of cow's milk?” Halfshoe knew better than to answer Mossbeard's question. 12So an argument was avoided, and Mossbeard could go on his errand. Both Muff and Halfshoe heaved a sigh, as if they had agreed upon it, then sighed once more, and sat down. For a long while their anxious eyes followed Mossbeard. At last Halfshoe sighed a third time, and turned to Muff. “Listen Muff,” he said quietly. “Are you ready to listen to what | have to say?” “Go ahead, I'm listening,” said Muff. “Mossbeard is a jolly good fellow, but on second thoughts... Do you think we did right to team up with him?” Halfshoe's outright question embarrassed Muff. He scratched his muff for no obvious reason, blushed and lowered his eyes. “Do you think that...” “I think we were perhaps too rash to make friends with him," Halfshoe went on. “We should've first found out more about his habits and manners. Instead, we licked ice-creams and were ready to welcome anyone as a friend.” “Now you're exaggerating,” muttered Mul. But Halfshoe was not to be stopped. "| don't exaggerate in the least!” he cried. “It's Mossbeard who's gone too far! Or do you consider it normal to carry an adder in your pocket?” Muff didn't consider it normal at all, but he did not want to criticize Mossbeard behind his back either. Therefore he mumbled briefly, “Mossbeard is our friend.” “That's the point!” screamed Halfshoe, “It is very unfortunate for us to have a friend who is warming an adder in his coat'” Muff hung his head. He did not know what to say. He didn't want to be unfair to Mossbeard. Even if Mossbeard had a few peculiar habits, he was, on the whole, a jolly midget and a good friend. To put an end to the unpleasant conversation he pretended to be sleepy. “Mossbeard's tea is making me drowsy,” he said, yawning, and stretching his limbs. "How about taking a nap?” Halfshoe was in full agreement. "This is a good idea,” he said, nodding. “Who knows when we'll be able to sleep again! At any rate, I can't imagine myself getting a wink of sleep when | know there's an adder in the camping site.” And when Muff didn't answer he added with a sly smile, “How would you feel if an adder steals into your muff at night?” "Stop it,” said Muff. His voice trembled betrayingly. “Please stop talking of the adder!" He lay down on his back and closed his eyes. “All right, all right,” mumbled Halfshoe, and lay down as well. “Let's have a nap. | only hope | won't see that adder in my dreams.” Who knows whether Muff and Halfshoe were simply tired or was the tea taking effect after all, at any rate, they soon were.fast asleep. Around them grasshoppers chirped and all kinds of insects hummed and buzzed. Far away, village dogs began to bark, for Mossbeard had arrived there with his milk jug. But Muff and Halfshoe didn’t hear anything, they snored quietly at the same beat. Nor did they hear a magpie fly noisily out of the wood and alight on a hazel bush nearby. The bird eyed the midgets with curiosity. Then it cawed again, more quietly than at first. The midgets did not stir, and the magpie perching on the hazel bough remained motionless as well. It did not turn its eyes off the midgets for a second. With a greedy look it stared at the golden medals glistening on their chests in the bright sunshine.Andy Drinks Fresh Cream When the village dogs saw Mossbeard approaching they all began to bark. Some of them rushed out of the gate, growling and snarling angrily. Fortunately Mossbeard knew the village dogs’ way of thinking. He knew it would be wise to pay no attention to them. If you didn’t take any notice of them they would soon stop barking. So Mossbeard continued on his way and didn't cast a glance in their direction. In order to remain calm and keep his mind off the dogs he kept murmuring to himself: | want a birthday cake, | want a birthday cake... Mossbeard's boldness affected the dogs. They soon lost their self-assurance and became confused. Their barking grew hesitant and less frequent until it stopped altogether. Finally they pretended as if Mossbeard were an uninteresting pheno- menon of nature which didn't concern dogs in the slightest. But the young woman to whose cottage Mossbeard soon turned, behaved quite a different way. She had never seen a midget in her life and stared at Mossbeard with almost impolite surprise. Nonetheless, Mossbeard bowed to her respectfully and raised his hat. "Good afternoon,” he said politely. 16 The young woman's rosy round face broke into a broad smile. “Dear me, you can speak as well!” "1 do have this modest ability indeed,” answered Moss- beard politely. “Unfortunately | can only make everyday con- versation. If | could make up poems like my friend Muff, I'd certainly write a poem to you.” The young woman's attitude towards Mossbeard changed entirely. "You are a dear!" she cried in a soft voice. “You would write a poem for me! Although you can’t make poems you are still the only one who has ever thought of writing a poem for me. Can | help you in any way?” Mossbeard pointed to the empty milk jug. "If you could give me some fresh milk for a sick creature I'd be...” The young woman interrupted him. “Fresh milk? For a sick creature? No, no. I'll give you fresh cream. This is much better for someone who's sick. Don't you agree?” Without waiting for an answer she seized the milk jug from Mossbeard’s hand and ran to the cottage. On the doorstep she stopped and looked back. Is that sick creature a relative of yours?” “Well, not exactly,” answered Mossbeard. "He's more like a friend to me.” The young woman nodded understandingly, and disappeared indoors to emerge again, with the jug filled with fresh cream to the brim. She had to walk carefully so as not fo spill the cream. Coming back to Mossbeard she asked anxiously, “Is your friend seriously ill?" “| would say so,” muttered Mossbeard. "Then you must take good care of him and nurse him well," said the young woman and placed the jug before Mossbeard’s feet. “Fresh cream is good for any illness.” 2 Three Jolly Fellows 17Mossbeard nodded. “What's the matter with your friend?” she went on inquiring. “Someone stepped on him," answered Mossbeard. The young woman looked startled. "Someone stepped on him? How did someone step on him?” "Very simply. Someone stepped on him right in the middle. It's a serious thing.” “But of course," whispered the young woman. She was so dismayed that it took her quite a while before she managed to compose herself. “Good heavens," she said. “What incredible things happen nowadays! Right in the middle! It's unheard of! Give my regards to your friend. | hope he gets well soon. What did you say his name was?” “Andy.” "Oh yes, Andy.” Maybe Andy had got used to his name, or maybe he wanted to get some fresh air, anyway, he craned his head out of Moss- beard’s pocket. “You have... a snake... in your pocket,” she stammered. “Just imagine!” "A snake?" murmured Mossbeard, giving Andy a casual look. "Yes, you're right, this is a real snake.” Probably Andy had sniffed the fresh cream. The next moment he stretched his whole body out of Mossbeard's pocket and turned his head in all directions. Then he slipped down on the grass. “Just imagine! cried the young woman, folding her arms. "| don't know what to say!" Andy wriggled his way towards the cream jug and with no considerable effort lifted his head into the cream. “What if he will poison the cream?” the young woman asked anxiously. “He has a poison-tooth.” Mossbeard shrugged his shoulders indifferently. “I's all right," he mumbled. 18 When Andy had enough Mossbeard put him back into his pocket again and said tenderly, "Sleep well, litle Andy. A good sleep will make you well again.” The young woman was not sure she had heard right. “What did you call the adder?” “Andy," murmured Mossbeard. The young woman looked startled, then she smiled at Moss- beard and said, “You must have a heart of gold that even a snake won't hurt you. | wouldn't be surprised to hear one day that you've become a poet after all.” Mossbeard was deeply moved by her kind words. He thanked the young woman for the fresh cream and for her hospitality. fiien be picked up the jug and started the journey back to his friends.The Thieving Magpie Happy and content, Mossbeard strode across the meadow. In one hand he was dangling the milk jug, while with the other he gave an occasional pat on the pocket in which Andy was taking an after dinner nap. At the same time, Mossbeard’s eager eyes took in the surrounding countryside and its modest beauty filled his heart with tenderness. The rye waved softly in the breeze. Further away, the bright sunrays gilded the castle ruins. And the wood across the meadow looked so lovely and green. On the edge of the wood he soon caught sight of Muff's red van, and walking a little further he could hear the soft snoring of Muff and Halfshoe. He stepped up to his friends who were sleeping happily side by side. Something caught his attention and he looked at them in surprise, frowning thoughtfully. "Hm," said Mossbeard, not quite knowing what it was. "There's something wrong with the fellows.” Gradually all his attention was concentrated on Halfshoe. He had a feeling that Halfshoe looked different. What made him look different? Mossbeard didn't know. Maybe Halfshoe was having a nightmare and that made him look so strange. But Halfshoe's face looked almost happy—he was having no night- mare. Mossbeard was puzzled. He decided to wake up his friends. 20 Three heads are three heads, particularly as one of them belonged to Halfshoe. Maybe Halfshoe could tell himself what was wrong with him. “Wake up! Wake up!” Mossbeard shouted at the top of his voice. “There's something wrong with Halfshoe!” With great difficulty Halfshoe and Muff pulled their eyes open, and sat up reluctantly. “You better watch out | don't give you a punch on the nose,” grumbled Halfshoe, still half-asleep. “Then there'll be something wrong with you too!” In spite of Halfshoe’s unfriendliness Mossbeard remained calm. "It's not a joke,” he said to Halfshoe. "There is something different about you.” “You are not the same either,” said Halfshoe hotly. “You didn't use to carry adders in your pocket before!” Mossbeard scratched his beard thoughtfully. "This is quite another matter,” he said. “Andy is a gain, so to say, whereas you seem to be missing something.” “At any rate, | know what you are missing,” Halfshoe laughed and pointed to his forehead meaningfully. “A midget who has his wits about him wouldn't carry adders in his pocket.” In the meantime Muff had also taken a good look at Halfshoe. “Leave the adder alone,” he interrupted. “| think Mossbeard is right. There is something strange about Halfshoe. But | don't know what it is either.” "You have both lost your senses,” snapped Halfshoe. Muff livened up at once. "That's it,” he cried. “The right word is—lost! Halfshoe, you have lost something!” This time Halfshoe didn't answer, he kept looking from Muff to Mossbeard and back again. Suddenly Mossbeard whispered in an anxious voice, “The medal! Where is your medal, Halfshoe?” Everything became clear at once. There was no medal on 21Halfshoe’s chest. The gold medal, which the Fire Chief had pinned on in person for bravery in the cat-campaign, was missing! There was a long, depressing silence. Halfshoe, Muff and Mossbeard, each had the same question in mind: Who was that brazen-faced thief who had stolen the medal when Halfshoe was asleep? As if in answer to their worried thoughts they heard a magpie croaking in a hazel bush nearby. All three turned their heads. “& magpie!” Halfshoe cried out angrily. “Believe me, it's the work of the magpie!” Mossbeard did not turn his eyes off the magpie. Since childhood he had watched birds with great interest and he had learnt a lot about their habits. For example, he could forecast the weather by observing the flight of swallows. The behaviour of the crows in tree-tops told him whether there was a fox or a hunter moving around in the woods. He could guess how a magpie’s mind was working. Magpies had a weakness for all kinds of glittering objects and would steal anything they could lay their claws on. "It seems to be mocking at us," said Muff, when the magpie began to screech again. But Mossbeard was of a different opinion. He was rather clever at drawing conclusions from the bird's behaviour. "\'d say that its screeching expresses helpless rage,” he said, It carried Halfshoe's medal to its nest and returned to get Muff's medal too. But it got an unpleasant surprise: you had woken up in the meantime.” "If you hadn't gone to pamper your adder we wouldn't have fallen asleep," grumbled Halfshoe. “And | still would have had my medal.” “See, the magpie is flying away,” Mossbeard interrupted him. “It's probably returning to its nest to gloat over the medal." 23“Alter it!” Halfshoe screamed. “We mustn't let it out of sight!" The midgets jumped into the van, Muff pressed on the accelerator and the pursuit began. Luckily for them, the magpie followed the road, so that Muff did not have to turn away from it. Undoubtedly it would have been much more difficult if not impossible to drive across the fields and meadows. Muff increased speed and slowly the van caught up with the magpie. "Don't drive too near to it,” warned Mossbeard. “If it realizes that we are following it it might fool us by leading us away from its nest.” "It's easy for you to say. You have the medal on your chest and the adder in your pocket. But | have to get my medal back! Drive faster, Muff!” Muff wasn't sure what he should do, and looked helplessly at the other two. The question was decided for them by the magpie. It made a sharp turn and headed towards the ruins. The midgets could do nothing but look after the disappearing bird. It grew smaller and smaller. Reaching the ruins, it circled above the walls and then darted through the air like a falling stone. “Its nest must be somewhere near the ruins,” said Mossbeard. "There's no doubt about it." Muff looked horrified. “Bul the rats..." he whispered. “The rats are there!” The mention of rats didn't make the other two feel any happier either. But Halfshoe’s medal had to be recovered at any cost. There were no two ways about it. Muff started the engine again and away they drove, looking for a road to the castle ruins. In the Castle Ruins After a few wrong turns Muff at last found a wide enough and not too bumpy track which led to the castle ruins. The nearer to the ruins the midgets got the gloomier and quieter they became, especially after a huge grey rat had dashed across the road, just in front of the van. “\'ve heard rats are terrible gluttons,” said Muff anxiously. “They might even eat car tires.” “They drink kerosene,” Halfshoe seemed to know. “A car tire must be quite a tasty bite after a drink of kerosene.” His words horrified Muff. “Why didn’t | take a spare tire along!” he sighed heavily. But Halfshoe said firmly, “We haven't any spare medals either. Drive on, Muff! After all, one medal is worth more than four trivial tires. Drive on, even if we have to do it without fires.” But they couldn't go any further. The road had come to an end and in front of them stood the castle ruins. Decidedly, Muff drove the van through a crumbling gap in the wall. The brakes screeched. “Good gracious!” Halfshoe cried out. “Horrible! Mossbeard whispered. Muff covered his eyes with both hands. 25The van had stopped so abruptly that it still vibrated slightly. It seemed as if even the van was trembling with horror at the frightful sight revealed before their eyes. Although the midgets were prepared to face the rats, they never imagined they would come across such a multitude the sight of which made their blood curdle. The rats covered every step of the ground, looking like a live grey carpet, like dirty foam bubbling up the walls here and there because there was no room for them all on the ground. And their eyes! These were dangerous eyes gleaming maliciously. “Dear Halfshoe," wailed Muff, gingerly taking his hands away from his face. “You can have my medal, only let's get out of here as fast as possible!” "You can have my medal too,” whispered Mossbeard, supporting Muff's proposal. “You can wear them in turn, or both at the same time, as you wish.” Before Halfshoe could reply they heard the magpie's loud screech above their heads. It expressed malicious delight and sounded as if the bird were rejoicing over their ill luck. It was only now that the midgets noticed a huge pine growing in the middle of the ruins. And right at the top of the pine tree was the magpie's nest. The nest of the same magpie who was screeching at them so shamelessly. “My dear friends," said Halfshoe in a serious voice. “It was very noble of you to offer me your medals. | am very grateful to you, honestly, | am. But you mustn't forget for what these medals were awarded to you. It was for bravery, wasn't if? But how can brave men give up an undertaking and flee shame- fully? Especially now when our aim is so near." Mossbeard looked towards the pine to measure the distance between the van and the tree. "It is near, | agree," he sighed. “But between us and our aim are at least two thousand rats.” Still, Muff and Mossbeard took Halfshoe’s words very much to heart and neither of them dared to mention fleeing again. 26 Well, what else was there to do—once being honoured as brave men they had to go on being brave. “We could try to climb up the pine,” suggested Halfshoe. "It doesn’t look impossible. The only problem is how to get through the pack of rats.” “Exactly,” said Muff and nodded. “That's the problem." In the meantime something strange happened under the tree. The rats who had surrounded the van drew back a little, leaving an empty space of a circle in their middle. Two rats had come out of the pack and entered the circle. One of them was quite an ordinary rat. Although it was well-built and its fur was smooth, its movements were clumsy and it seemed as if it had entered the circle unwillingly. The other rat was strikingly different. It was certainly as big as an average cat. It was strong, healthy and sure of itself. It gave a lordly glance at the pack, then bared its teeth in a snarl and bored its malicious eyes into its opponent. For a long time neither of them made the slightest move. “What is it supposed to mean?” asked Muff, looking puzzled. "What do they want of each other?” "They're fighting,” answered Mossbeard. Halfshoe could not help grinning, though he was in no laughing mood. “In my opinion, they are only staring at each other,” he said. “Like we did with the cats not long ago.” Mossbeard nodded. "Quite right," he said. “They are staring at each other. That's their way of fighting. The most powerful weapon for a rat are its eyes. A rat can kill another rat with its look only, without even as much as touching it with the tip of its claw." Halfshoe's smile disappeared when he heard Mossbeard’s explanation. The strange fight continued. The huge rat was making circles round its opponent bristling its fur and clattering its teeth 27menacingly. The whole pack watched the duel, keeping their breath, as if it were a thrilling circus performance. “On second thoughts, | can do without my medal," Halfshoe whispered suddenly. "1 wouldn't mind if we turned back right now.” He had also stopped wriggling his toes, which happened very seldom. With surprise, Muff and Mossbeard looked at Halfshoe. It was true: the rats’ fight was horrible to look at. No wonder Halfshoe was affected by it. Still, wasn't it Halfshoe himself who had spoken so convinc- ingly about the meaning of bravery? "And bravery?" asked Muff. “How about bravery?” "The medal won't make me braver than | am," announced Halfshoe. “In my opinion we shouldn't make too much of medals and awards.” But Muff and Mossbeard refused to give up. When they had wavered, it was Halfshoe who had encouraged them. Now it was their turn to give him moral support. "Chin up, Halfshoe!" said Muff. And Mossbeard added, "The fact is that we are all afraid of those monstrous rats. But real bravery means that we must stand firm and not give in to our fears.” Halfshoe didn’t answer. But he did begin to wriggle his toes again. The rats had been fighting for about an hour, perhaps even longer. The situation hadn't changed much. The bigger rat kept orbiting round the smaller one, who had flattened itself against the ground. Suddenly Mossbeard said, "We need a rat fighting weapon!" "That's right,” cried Halfshoe. “If only | had my catapult now...” Mossbeard did not let him finish, 28 “Even a most powerful gun can do nothing to rats, not to speak of a catapult. We need a different weapon altogether and I'm going to look for it right now." “What?” asked Muff, horrified. “You are not going to leave us here with these monstrous rats, are you?” "That's exactly what I’m going to do,” said Mossbeard. "Somebody has to keep an eye on the magpie and prevent it from flying away with Halfshoe’s medal.” "But..." objected Halfshoe. Mossbeard cut him short, “Don't fuss! | must be off immediately. The rats are watching the fight and won't notice me go. When the fight is over it will be too late!” Silently he opened the door and slipped out. A few seconds later he was out of sight. “He is gone,” whispered Muff. Halishoe nodded downheartedly. On the battlefield the smaller rat had begun to gasp for breath. A few minutes later it collapsed.The sun was setting already, but there was no sign of Mossbeard yet. “What's keeping him so long?” sighed Muff. “Maybe some- thing has happened to him.” Halfshoe tried to make the best of a bad thing. "Like the other day when he happened to find an adder,” he said with a wry smile. “At least we have no adder to worry us as long as Mossbeard is away.” But Halfshoe realized himself that this was poor consolation. An adder was nothing, compared to a huge pack of rats! After all, the inoffensive Andy stayed quietly in Mossbeard’s pocket while the rats were getting more aggressive with every passing minute. The rats kept drawing nearer and nearer. A couple of bolder ones had already jumped onto the bonnet. Soon the midgets could hear the scratching of nails on the roof. Every time a whiskered, sharp-snouted face looked at them through the window, Muff and Halfshoe shuddered nervously and appre- hensively. 30 “Are the doors closed properly?” asked Halfshoe in a whisper. Muff nodded. “The doors are closed all right," he said. “But | wouldn't be surprised if....” A loud bang cut Muff short. The midgets peeped cautiously out of the window. A big rat had jumped against the van with all its might, probably trying to find out how strong it was. "What were you going to say?” asked Halfshoe, after a short silence. “| wouldn't be surprised if those rats can gnaw through iron and tin-plate,” Muff finished his sentence. “And if they drink kerosene, as you said, maybe they also find petrol to their taste.” Halfshoe gave no answer, but the expression on his face spoke for itself—it showed plain fear. Gradually, almost unnoticeably, evening grew into night. Neither Muff nor Halfshoe remembered any other night to have been so long and gloomy, although the midsummer sky glowed dimly. They didn’t feel happier either when a big friendly full moon rolled herself over the castle walls to peep down on them. To the contrary, in the moonlight they could see every movement the rats made. Soon they had no doubt that the animals were up to no good. There was something sinister about their activities. First of all, their circle retreated to a certain distance, leaving a wide stretch of empty space around the car. Then the mightiest of rats began to arrange themselves in battle order. They lined up in a threatening column about twenty paces from the front of the van. “It looks as if they're planning to attack," said Halfshoe in a trembling voice. “It certainly does,” agreed Muff. “They've realized that they won't be able to drive us out of the ruins by merely scaring us.” Alert and strained, Muff and Halfshoe sat beside each other 31in the front seat. The moonlight streaming through the window painted their grave faces even paler than they were. There was a deep silence around them. The magpie had gone to sleep in its nest long ago. It was probably blissfully dreaming of Halfshoe’s medal, unaware of what was going on under the tree. And then it happened. A strange, unusual twitching went through the column of rats, and as if on a signal, they began to advance. "They're coming,” wailed Halfshoe. “Like a grey avalanche.” At the same instant Muff switched on the engine and stepped on the accelerator. The van seemed to jump from its place. The rats were coming nearer. The van raced towards their approaching ranks. A collision seemed to be unavoidable. “Let's hope the van won't topple over,” flashed through Muff's head. He had no time to think further. There was a frightful crash The noise was deafening. Pots and pans were clattering inside the van, rats squealing outside. The midgets could see the column of rats being thrown upwards to the right and left of the van. "Go ahead!" Halfshoe shouted excitedly. “Press on, Muff!” And Muff drove the van right into the pack of rats. Although they bared their teeth angrily, they were forced to retreat. Only when the column of rats had been dispersed once and for all did Muff stop the van. "That will be enough for now," Muff sighed wearily "| hope they've learnt their lesson,” Halfshoe chuckled “I'm sure they won't dare as much as sniff at our van now.” But Muff wasn’t so sure about it. “Rats don't give up easily. They are awfully stubborn and headstrong animals.” But for the time being, it seemed that the rats had no plans for a new attack. They kept cautiously away from the van. 32Time passed. In the east the sky was turning lighter. At dawn bands of rats returned from their nightly prowl to the village. All the loot was gobbled up in next fo no time and new bands went out to try their luck. “I's awful to think how hard people must work and the rats do nothing but grow fat on their toil,” remarked Muff. Halfshoe added gloomily, "If things go on like this there will be no food in the neighbourhood soon. When | was a child rats didn’t use to be so greedy.” Morning came. The magpie greeted the rising sun with a joyful screech. It flapped its wings as if to test their strength and flew out of the nest, heading straight for the wood and screeching at the top of its voice. ‘Muff was so exhausted after the strain of the ghastly night that he never noticed the bird until it was flying away. “At any rate it had no medal round its neck,” he murmured. "Maybe it carried it in its beak.” Halfshoe gave a short laugh. “Well, we can make it sure. Hold your medal between your teeth and tell me the story of your life?” “Are you mocking at me?” said Muff, offended. "How can | speak when | hold the medal between my teeth?” “That's what | mean," answered Halfshoe, laughing. “It's doubtful whether it could be done or not. So, the magpie couldn't have put on such a good show of screeching if it had the medal in its beak.” “Of course, you're quite right,” sighed Muff. “It seems I'm away from reality.” Hardly had he said this when they were brought back to reality and in a very unpleasant manner on top of that. The rats had started to approach again. “What do you say!" exclaimed Halfshoe. “They seem to be asking for more.” But his voice faltered. 34 “I'm afraid, the last night's defeat has taught them a thing or two," said Muff. “They probably have a beter war plan now. And the midgets began to watch the movements in the rats’ camp with utmost attention.The Rat-Fighting Weapon Slowly but persistently, the rats drew nearer to the van. Their whiskers twitched nervously, and in their eyes was a malicious gleam. Before long Muff and Halfshoe realized that the rats had decided to use a new plan of action. Obviously they had drawn serious conclusions from their failure. A special unit of the strongest beasts was now stationed on both sides of the van. “They're going to attack us from the sides,” said Muff in a trembling voice. “So it would be impossible to drive into them as we did last time.” “If this happens,” groaned Halfshoe, “we'll be buried alive under the pack of rats and our van will become, so to say, a coffin on the wheels.” This seemed to be a very likely prospect. Helplessly Muff placed his trembling hands on the wheel. What should they do? Whatever should they do? Small beads of perspiration had appeared on Halfshoe’s brow. There seemed to be no way out. The rats were closing in on them from the flank. And again the same strange, unusual twitching went through the attackers. It meant that now, very, very soon the attack would begin... But what was that? 36 Instead of rushing the van, the rats turned their heads towards the entrance to the ruins, The next moment, the whole pack of rats pushed their way towards it. What made them change their tactics so suddenly and unexpectedly? Muff and Halfshoe jumped out of their seats and dashed to the back window, curious to see what had made the rats give up their original plan. In horror they cried out, “Mossbeard!” Mossbeard was back at last. But at what a moment! Halfshoe closed his eyes, and so did Muff. Neither of the two wanted to see their friend perish. After a short while, Halfshoe said in a soft voice, with his eyes still closed, "He was a wonderful fellow.” Halfshoe was ready to forgive Mossbeard everything, forget every misunderstanding which had occurred between them. He wasn't even going to say a bad word about that nasty adder again. “It must be over by now," said Muff at last. “Shall we open our eyes?” “Yes, let's open our eyes," said Halfshoe. “Let's face the fate with our eyes open.” They opened their eyes and the first person they caught sight of was Mossbeard, who was marching towards the van, carefree as ever. “A miracle has happened!” Muff cried out. It could have been called a miracle indeed. The rats who had been on the point of attacking Mossbeard only a short while ago drew back in fear. Even the most fierce-looking ones did not dare to approach him. It seemed as if Mossbeard were shielded by a protective wall against which the rats were helpless. Mossbeard showed complete indifference towards the raging rats, For him they didn’t seem to exist at all. He trod along, whistling by himself and swinging a bunch of flowers in his hand. On reaching the van, he opened the door and called briskly, 37“Good morning!" Now that the rats had withdrawn again and Mossbeard was back, safe and sound, Halfshoe couldn't help becoming quarrel- some again. "Good morning to you!” he mocked. “And please accept our sincerest thanks for the lovely bunch of flowers! Now we haven't ‘a worry in the world. Life wouldn't be worth living without flowers and your dear adder, would it, Mossbeard?” But Mossbeard said, "You are perfectly right. Without these small flowers our life would certainly be in danger. Because this little flower, called the hound’s tongue, is a first class rat-fighting weapon." And he waved a plant with red blossoms and tongue-shaped leaves in front of their nose. "The thing is,” he went on, “that rats can't stand its peculiar smell. That's why | got through the pack of rats so easily. By the way, sailors tell of cases when rats and mice have jumped overboard when a fresh plant was brought on board the ship.” "Hurrah!" shouted Halfshoe joyfully. His bad mood had vanished as if by magic. "| think it’s time we started,” said Muff briskly, and switched on the engine. “It'll be pretty hard to climb that pine, especially for me with my muff on.” “No doubt,” nodded Halfshoe. “A nice cool morning is just the right time to conquer a magpie's nest. | wouldn't feel like going later, during the midday heat.” Muff drove up to the pine. Mossbeard got out and kept the rats at a safe distance by swishing the plant at them. Only then did Muff and Halfshoe venture to leave the van. "Off we go!” shouted Halfshoe. “Let's conquer the new heights!” He was climbing up fast, skilfully using his bare toes for finding support in the slits of the pine bark. Muff shook his head thoughtfully. 38 "Well, well,” he said. “How quickly things can change! It was only a short while ago when Halfshoe imagined himself being buried and now he's striving for the heights.” “It's your turn,” Mossbeard interrupted Muff's meditation. Muff looked at him with a worried expression on his face. "But we can't leave the van at the mercy of the rats. What if they invade it?” "Hm," said Mossbeard thoughtlully. “What's keeping you?” shouted Halfshoe from the tree. But Mossbeard had found a solution to the problem already. "We'll leave the hound’s tongue in charge of the van!” "Do you think it will help?” "Of course, | do,” said Mossbeard, getting carried away with his own brilliant idea. “The hound's tongue will protect the van better than any safety lock can do.” When Muff still looked a bit hesitant, Mossbeard explained, “The Latin name for it is Cynoglossum officinale.” That settled the matter. The Latin name made a very deep impression on Muff indeed. “Very well, then,” he said. Mossbeard placed the hound’s tongue on the bonnet, and the two began to climb after Halfshoe.