Slowly, as the leaky strains of Mrs. Widgery's Lodger wound around the mist, the dancers leapt and squelched their way slowly through the night. . .
“. . . two, back, jump . . .”
The sticks clashed again.
“They're watching us!” panted Tailor, as he bounced past Jason, “I can see 'em!”
“. . . one . . . two . . . they won't do nothing 'til the music stops! . . . back, two, spin . . . they loves music! . . . forward, hop, turn . . . one and six, beetle crushers! . . . hop, back, spin . . .”
“They're coming out of the bracken!” shouted Carpenter, as the sticks met again.
“I see 'em . . . two, three, forward, turn . . . Carter . . . back, spin . . . you do a double . . . two, back . . . wandering angus down the middle . . .”
“I'm losing it, Jason!”
“Play! . . . two, three, spin . . .”
“They're all round us!”
“Dance!”
“They're watching us! They're closing in!”
“. . . spin, back . . . jump . . . we're nearly at the road . . .”
“Jason!”
“Remember when . . . three, turn . . . we won the cup against Ohulan Casuals? . . . spin . . .”
The sticks met, with a thump of wood against wood. Clods of earth were kicked into the night.
“Jason, you don't mean-”
“. . . back, two . . . do it. . . ”
“Carter's getting . . . one, two . . . out of wind . . .”
“. . . two, spin. . .”
“The accordion's melting, Jason,” sobbed Carter.
“. . . one, two, forward . . . bean setting!”
The accordion wheezed. The elves pressed in. Out of the corner of his eye Jason saw a dozen grinning, fascinated faces.
“Jason!”
“. . . one, two . . . Carter into the middle . . . one, two, spin. . .”
Seven pairs of boots thudded down . . .
“Jason!”
“. . . one, two . . . spin . . . ready . . . one, two . . . back . . . back . . . one, two . . . turn . . . KILL . . . and back, one, two. . .”
The inn was a wreck. The elves had stripped it of everything edible and rolled out every barrel, although a couple of rogue cheeses in the cellar had put up quite a fight.
The table had collapsed. Lobster claws and candlesticks lay among the ruined meal.