A highwaybird in a deckchair

‘Regroup!’ said Peregrine. ‘Regroup. That’s what you do when you have an emergency.’ In view of the fact that this was an emergency, he had put his visor up.

‘Quick, then,’ said Griselda. ‘We’ll need some kit. Back to the boat! Fast!’

And off they dashed through the long grass, crouching low so as not to be seen, in and out of the trees, along the tow-path and over the bridge, until they reached the boat.


Peregrine was quite a long way behind his friend. I don’t know whether you have ever tried sprinting in a suit of armour, but I can tell you, it’s quite hard work.

Griselda leapt nimbly onto the roof of the boat and immediately leapt nimbly off again. Her fur standing up on end, she tore back over the bridge until she reached Peregrine.

‘Peregrine! Your boat! You’ve got a hoarder, I mean a boarder, I mean a highwaybird, I mean…’

‘What are you talking about?’ gasped Peregrine, collapsing in an exhausted, sweaty heap on the ground.

‘No, don’t sit down! Come on! Quick quick! He’s wearing a black and white suit, he looks like a ganster! He’s taken over your boat! He’s sunbathing in a deckchair! Get up get up get up!!!’

Peregrine groaned and stood up.

‘I’m not sure that highwaybirds sunbathe in deckchairs,’ he said doubtfully. Then he took a deep breath and headed for the boat.


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