'Oh, no, please...'

A tree had fallen down and bridged the gulf. It was very narrow, but Snowy wheeled on to it without slowing.

Both ends of the tree drummed up and down on the lip of the cliff. Pebbles began to fall away. Snowy bounced across the gap like a small ball and stepped off on the far side just before the treetrunk teetered and dropped on to the rocks.

'Please, no...'

There wasn't a cliff here, just a long slope of loose rocks. Snowy landed among them, and flared his nostrils as the entire slope of scree began to move.

Rincewind saw the herd gallop past in the narrow canyon bottom, far below.

Large rocks bounded alongside him as the horse continued down in his own personal landslide. One or two jumped and bounced ahead, smashing on to the canyon floor just behind the last of the herd.

Numb with fear and the shaking, Rincewind looked further along the canyon. It was blind. The end was another cliff...

Stone piled into stone, building a rough wall across the canyon floor. As the last boulder slammed into place Snowy landed on top of it, almost daintily.

He looked down at the penned herd, milling in confusion, and flared his nostrils. Rincewind was pretty sure horses couldn't snigger, but this one radiated an air of sniggerruity.

It was ten minutes later that the horsemen rode up. By then the herd was almost docile.

They looked at the horses. They looked at Rincewind, who grinned horribly and said, 'No worries.'

Very slowly, he didn't fall off Snowy. He simply swivelled sideways, with his feet still twisted together, until his head banged gently on the ground.

That was bloody great riding, mate!'

'Could someone separate my ankles, please? I fear they may have fused together.'

A couple of the riders dismounted and, after some effort, pulled him free.

The leader looked down at him. 'Name your price for that little battler, mate!' said Remorse.

'Er... three... er... squids?' said Rincewind, muzzily.

'What? For a wiry little devil like that? He's got to be worth a coupla hundred at least!'

'Three squids is all I've got...'

'I reckon a few of them rocks hit him on the head,' said one of the stockmen who were holding Rincewind up.

'I mean I'll buy him off'f you, mister,' said Remorse, patiently. 'Tell you what – two hundred squids, a bag of tucker and we'll set you right on the road to... Where was it he wanted to go, Clancy?'

'Bugarup,' murmured Rincewind.

'Oh, you don't wanna go to Bugarup,' said Remorse. 'Nothing in Bugarup but a bunch of wowsers and pooftahs.'

' 's okay, I like parrots,' mumbled Rincewind, who was just hoping that they would let him go so that he could hold on to the ground again. 'Er... what's Ecksian for going mad with terrified fatigue and collapsing in a boneless heap?'

The men looked at one another.

'Isn't that "snagged as a wombat's tonker"?'

'No, no, no, that's when you chuck a twister, isn't it?' said Clancy.

'What? Strewth, no. Chucking a twister's when... when you... yeah, it's when you... yeah, it's when your nose... Hang on, that's "bend a smartie"...'

'Er—' said Rincewind, clutching his head.

'What? "Bend a smartie" is when your ears get blocked underwater.' Clancy looked uncertain, and then seemed to reach a decision. 'Yeah, that's right!'

'Nah, that's "gonging like a possum's armpit", mate.'

'Excuse me—' said Rincewind.

'That ain't right. "Gonging like a possum's armpit" is when you crack a crusty. When your ears are stuffed like a Mudjee's kettle after a week of Fridays, that's "stuck up like Morgan's mule".'

'No, you're referrin' to "happier than Morgan's mule in a choccy patch"—'

'You mean "as fast as Morgan's mule after it ate Ma's crow pie".'

'How fast was that? Exactly?' said Rincewind.

They all stared at him.

Taster'n an eel in a snakepit, mate!' said Clancy. 'Don't you understand plain language?'

'Yeah,' said one of the men, 'he might be a fancy rider but I reckon he's dumber than a—'

'Don't anyone say anything!' shouted Rincewind. 'I'm feeling a lot better, all right? Just... all right, all right?' He straightened his ragged robe and adjusted his hat. 'Now, if you could just set me on the right road to Bugarup, I will not trespass further on your time. You may keep Snowy. He can bed down on a ceiling somewhere.'

'Oh, no, mister,' said Remorse. He reached into a shirt pocket, pulled out a bundle of notes and licked his thumb to count off twenty. 'I always pays me debts. You want to stay with us a while first? We could use another rider and it's tough going on the road by yourself. There's bush rangers about.'

Rincewind rubbed his head again. Now that his various bodily organs had wobbled their way back into their approximate positions he could get back to general low-key generalized dread.

They won't have to worry about me,' he mumbled. 'I promise not to light fires or feed the animals. Well, I say promise - most of the time they're trying to feed off me.'

Remorse shrugged.

'Just so long as there's no more of those damn dropping bears,' said Rincewind.

The men laughed.

'Drop-bears? Who's been feedin' you a line about drop-bears?'

'What do you mean?'

'There's no such thing as drop-bears! Someone must've seen you coming, mate!'

'Huh? They've got... they went,' Rincewind waved his arm, 'boing... all over the place... great big teeth...'

'I reckon he madder'n Morgan's mule, mate!' said Clancy.

The group went silent.

'How mad is that, then?' said Rincewind.

Clancy leaned on his saddle and looked nervously at the other men. He licked his lips. 'Well, it's...'

'Yes?'

'Well, it's... it's...' His face twisted up. 'It's...'

'Ver'...?' Rincewind hinted.

'Ver'...' Clancy mumbled, clutching the syllable like a lifeline.

'Hmm?'

'Ver... ry...'

'Keep going, keep going...'

'Ver... ry... mad?' said Clancy.

'Well done! See? So much easier,' said Rincewind. 'Someone mentioned something about food?'

Remorse nodded to one of the men, who handed Rincewind a sack.

'There's beer and veggies and stuff and, 'cos you're a good sport, we're giving you a tin of jam, too.'

'Gooseberry?'

'Yep.'

'And I'm wondering about your hat,' said Remorse. 'Why's there all corks round it?'

'Knocks the flies out,' said Rincewind.

'That works, does it?'

'Course not,' said Clancy. 'If'n it does, some-one'd have thought of it by now.'

'Yes. Me,' said Rincewind. 'No worries.'

'Makes you look a bit of a drongo, mate,' said Clancy.

'Oh, good,' said Rincewind. 'Which way's Bugarup?'

'Just turn left at the bottom of the canyon, mate.'

'That's all?'

'You can ask again when you meet the bush rangers.'

'They've got some sort of cabin or station, have they?'

'They've... Well, just remember they'll find you if you get lost.'

'Really? Oh, well, I suppose that's part of their job. Good day to you.'

'G'day.'

'No worries.'

The men watched Rincewind until he was out of sight.

'Didn't seem very bothered, did he?'

'He's a bit gujeroo, if you ask me.'

'Clancy?'

'Yes, boss?'

'You made that one up, didn't you...?'

'Well...'

'You bloody did, Clancy.'

Clancy looked embarrassed, but then rallied.

'All right, then,' he said hotly. 'What about that one you used yesterday, "as busy as a one-armed carpenter in Smackaroo"?'

'What about it?'

'I looked it up in the atlas and there's no such place, boss.'

'There damn well is!'

There isn't. Anyway, no one'd employ a one-armed carpenter, would they? So he wouldn't be busy, would he?'

'Listen, Clancy—'

'He'd go fishing or something, wouldn't he?'