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though. Couldn’t turn round to climb back down, d’y’see? Fell down. My spines were out of alignment that day, I can tell you.”
    Alkus handed Podge an armful of wool. “No, Podge,” she said patiently, “we didn’t capture him. He is a friend who helped us Uptop. Saved Qwolsh here from a nasty scrape. We’re showing him around.”
    â€œAnd you had better get back to Mrs. Podge with her wool before she has your quills for knitting needles,” added Qwolsh fiercely, not liking to be reminded of his embarrassing meeting with the cat.
    â€œWool? No, no,” said the porcupine. “She has lots of wool. I’d like to spend some time with this human.” So saying, he threw the wool over his shoulder, where it got snagged on his quills. Jumping, he spun around and bellowed, “Agh! Monster! Get off, you brute. Off, before I quill you!” He spun this way and that, looking for his imagined attacker, until he became so entangled in the wool that he fell to the ground, a huffing, puffing, totally immobilized wool-wound warrior.
    Digger’s nasal voice came over the laughter of the others. He was sitting back, breathing with a hawing sound on the lenses of one of his many pairs of spectacles and polishing them with a cloth.
    â€œWell, Podge,” he snuffled as he wiped, “I think, haww”—he breathed heavily on the lenses—“that Mrs. Podge does a, haww”—he breathed on them again— “better job of knitting with only two needles than you do with all of, haww, your quills.” He perched the freshly polished spectacles on the end of his snout and grinned.
    â€œI can’t hear you, Digger,” said Podge, as the others helped him untangle. “You have the wrong spectacles on.”
    The mole looked confused and started to go through his many pockets, muttering to himself. “Must find my listening… Wait a minute! Ha! Ha! Very funny, very funny indeed. I can’t hear you. You have the wrong spectacles on. Very good. Ha! Ha!”
    â€œShowing him around, you say,” Podge clapped his front paws and rubbed the palms together with a dry rustling sound; his quills bristled in a most alarming manner. “Right, then. What should he see?”

Chapter 6
    The Undergardeners deliberated at length. Mouse fidgeted with impatience. Suggestions were made, discussed and dismissed. Fire Lake and the Invisible Mountain were rejected, as was the Blue Bagoo and the Green Gamee. Before they could discard the Ancient Rhymer, Mouse chimed in, “The Ancient Rhymer sounds interesting. Let’s go there.”
    The Undergardeners looked at him in surprise, having quite forgotten he was there. “Right then,” said Podge. “Are we off?” He screwed his monocle in firmly and sauntered off on all fours. Alkus winked at Mouse, folded her arms and waited. After several paces, Podge came to a stop and turned back with a puzzled look on his face. “Where are we goin’?” he said.
    â€œYou’re the only one seems to be going anywhere,” remarked Qwolsh.
    â€œYes, true enough, true enough,” mumbled Podge. “Where am I goin’, then?”
    â€œWe don’t know, Podge,” said Alkus. “But if you’re looking for the Ancient Rhymer, you’re going the wrong way.”
    Podge ambled back. “Really?” he said. “Could have sworn…Never mind.”
    Mouse asked what exactly an Ancient Rhymer was and what it did, and Alkus said, “It’s a him and that is what he does. Rhymes! Makes verses all the time.”
    â€œNever stops. Everythin’ has to rhyme, d’you see?” said Podge.
    â€œHe keeps a record of the happenings here,” explained Alkus, “a sort of history. As well as supplying verses for special occasions.”
    â€œHe wrote one…
    â€¦about us,” squealed Snick and Snock and they began to recite the