“No, but I saw Carter and Thatcher.”
Mist curled up as the rain drummed into the warm earth. The seven surviving Morris Men crawled under a
dripping bush.
“There's going to be hell to pay in the morning!”
moaned Carter. “When she finds us we're done for!”
“We'll be all right if we can find some iron,” said Jason. “Iron don't have no effect on her! She'll tan our hides for us!”
Carter clutched his knees to his chest in terror.
“Who?”
“Mistress Weatherwax!”
Thatcher jabbed him in the ribs. Water cascaded off the leaves above them and tunnelled down every neck.
“Don't be so daft! You saw them things! What're you worrying about that old baggage for?”
“She'll tan our hides for us, right enough! 'Twas all our fault, she'll say!”
“I just hopes she gets a chance,” muttered Tinker.
“We are,” said Thatcher, “between a rock and a hard place.”
“No we ain't,” sobbed Carter. “I been there. That's that gorge just above Bad Ass. We ain't there! I wish we was there! We're under this bush! And they'll be looking for us! And so shall she!”
“What happened when we was doing the Ent-” Carpenter began.
“I ain't asking that question right now,” said Jason. “The question I'm asking right now is, how do we get home tonight?”
“She'll be waiting for us!” Carter wailed.
There was a tinkle in the darkness.
“What've you got there?” said Jason.
“It's the props sack,” said Carter. “You said as how it was my job to look after the props sack!”
“You dragged that all the way down here?”
“I ain't about to get into more trouble 'cos of losing the props sack!”
Carter started to shiver.
“If we gets back home,” said Jason, “I'm going to talk to our mam about getting you some of these new dried frog pills.”
He pulled the sack toward him and undid the top.
“There's our bells in here,” he said, “and the sticks. And who told you to pack the accordion?”
“I thought we might want to do the Stick and-”
“No one's ever to do the Stick and-”
There was a laugh, away on the rain-soaked hill, and a crackling in the bracken. Jason suddenly felt the focus of attention.