Rakkety Tam by Brian Jacques Read Free Book Online Page A

hedgehog’s work. “You like doing this, don’t you, friend?”
    Wiping soil from his trowel, Jem straightened his back. “Indeed I do, Brother. I often think I’d have done better as a gardener, instead o’ bein’ just a pawloose rover. Tell me, why’ve ye kept some o’ these scallion sprigs back instead of plantin ’em all at once?”
    Demple bedded another seedling in, covering its delicate roots. “Because they’d all grow at once, and we’d have a wonderfully useless bumper harvest. No, Jem, ’tis betterto plant vegetables at different times. Then, when we need some, they can be fresh-picked, leaving us room to grow more. Otherwise, our storerooms would be overfilled.”
    He waved a paw across the vegetable gardens. “See, beetroots, leeks, lettuce, carrot, onion and cress. But never too many growing at one time, that’s the trick.”
    The wise mouse waved his trowel at two Dibbuns who looked as if they were ready to dash right through his produce. “Be careful to walk around the border! Now, how can I help you two rascals, eh?”
    Demple remarked under his breath to Jem, “Sometimes I wish we could plant our babes like seedlings. At least it would stop them from charging through my drills like little ploughs.”
    Mimsie and Mudge skirted the plants, calling out, “Bruvver Dimples, Fry Glis sended us. We gotta fetch herbers an ’tatoes an” coddyflowers, ’cos he’s makin’ a veggible bake wivva crust on it!”
    The kindly Brother smiled. “Stop there, me and Mister Jem will take you to the storeroom to get them.”
    Holding the Dibbuns’ paws, Jem and Demple walked the babes back to the Abbey. Jem raised his spiky eyebrows at the molebabe. “Mudge, you should’ve gone to the stores in the first place. Our stuff isn’t ready t’be picked yet.”
    Mudge gave him a cheerful grin. “Hurr, us’n’s bee’s only h’infants, zurr. Ow’m uz apposed to know that?”
    Jem looked down at the velvety little head. “Didn’t the Friar tell you to get his supplies from the storerooms? I’ll wager he did.”
    Mudge smote his brow with a tiny paw. “Moi gudderness, so he’m did, zurr! But oi aspeck uz furgot to amember thart. Us’n’s only got likkle brains, so uz h’offen furgets all kinds uv fings.”
    Jem nodded sympathetically. “I know exactly wot you mean, mate. It happens to us old ’uns, too. I get like that a lot lately.”
    They were getting the supplies out of the storeroom when Abbot Humble entered. “Hello! What are you two rascals up to, eh?”
    Mimsie scowled. “Us not rakkles, we get veggibles for Glis!”
    Humble patted her head. “Oh, right, there’s a good little maid. I forgot, we’re having a special supper tonight to honour our moles. Should be good fun, eh, Demple?”
    Molebabe Mudge wagged a stern paw at Humble. “Nought funny abowt ee supper. Et bee’s a gurt honner to bee ee moler, loike oi!”
    Humble shook Mudge’s tiny paw. “My apologies. I’m sure it is a great honour to be a mole, and you, my friend, are a shining example of a wonderful molebabe!”
    Mudge scratched his snout and shuffled his footpaws, a sure sign of embarrassment displayed by Dibbun moles. “Noice uv ee to say so, h’Abbot zurr. Thankee!”
    As the babes continued selecting their supplies, Humble remarked to his wandering cousin, “Jem, I was wondering if you could recall the lines that Askor related to you, the rhyme about the Walking Stone. Do you think you could remember his exact words?”
    Pursing his lips, Jem stared at the ceiling, as if seeking inspiration there. “Hmm, somethin’ about the sun fallin’ from the sky an’ dancin’. No, I’m sorry, I seem to ’ave forgotten it.”
    Mudge left off nibbling a sweet