Watership Down

18. Watership Down

It was evening of the following day. The north-facing escarpment of Watership Down, in shadow since early morning, now caught the western sun for an hour before twilight. Three hundred feet the down rose vertically in a stretch of no more than six hundred-a precipitous wall, from the thin belt of trees at the foot to the ridge where the steep flattened out. The light, full and smooth, lay like a gold rind over the turf, the furze and yew bushes, the few wind-stunted thorn trees. From the ridge, the light seemed to cover all the slope below, drowsy and still. But down in the grass itself, between the bushes, in that thick forest trodden by the beetle, the spider and the hunting shrew, the moving light was like a wind that danced among them to set them scurrying and weaving. The red rays flickered in and out of the grass stems, flashing minutely on membranous wings, casting long shadows behind the thinnest of filamentary legs, breaking each patch of bare soil into a myriad individual grains. The insects buzzed, whined, hummed, stridulated and droned as the air grew warmer in the sunset. Louder yet calmer than they, among the trees, sounded the yellowhammer, the linnet and greenfinch. The larks went up, twittering in the scented air above the down. From the summit, the apparent immobility of the vast blue distance was broken, here and there, by wisps of smoke and tiny, momentary flashes of glass. Far below lay the fields green with wheat, the flat pastures grazed by horses, the darker greens of the woods. They, too, like the hillside jungle, were tumultuous with evening, but from the remote height turned to stillness, their fierceness tempered by the air that lay between.

At the foot of the turf cliff, Hazel and his companions were crouching under the low branches of two or three spindle trees. Since the previous morning they had journeyed nearly three miles. Their luck had been good, for everyone who had left the warren was still alive. They had splashed through two brooks and wandered fearfully in the deep woodlands west of Ecchinswell. They had rested in the straw of a starveall, or lonely barn, and woken to find themselves attacked by rats. Silver and Buckthorn, with Bigwig helping them, had covered the retreat until, once all were together outside, they had taken to flight. Buckthorn had been bitten in the foreleg, and the wound, in the manner of a rat bite, was irritant and painful. Skirting a small lake, they had stared to see a great gray fisher bird that stabbed and paddled in the sedge, until a flight of wild duck had frightened them away with their clamor. They had crossed more than half a mile of open pasture without a trace of cover, expecting every moment some attack that did not come. They had heard the unnatural humming of a pylon in the summer air; and had actually gone beneath it, on Fiver's assurance that it could do them no harm. Now they lay under the spindle trees and sniffed in weariness and doubt at the strange, bare country round them.

Since leaving the warren of the snares they had become warier, shrewder, a tenacious band who understood each other and worked together. There was no more quarreling. The truth about the warren had been a grim shock. They had come closer together, relying on and valuing each other's capacities. They knew now that it was on these and on nothing else that their lives depended, and they were not going to waste anything they possessed between them. In spite of Hazel's efforts beside the snare, there was not one of them who had not turned sick at heart to think that Bigwig was dead and wondered, like Blackberry, what would become of them now. Without Hazel, without Blackberry, Buckthorn and Pipkin-Bigwig would have died. Without himself he would have died, for which else, of them all, would not have stopped running after such punishment? There was no more questioning of Bigwig's strength, Fiver's insight, Blackberry's wits or Hazel's authority. When the rats came, Buckthorn and Silver had obeyed Bigwig and stood their ground. The rest had followed Hazel when he roused them and, without explanation, told them to go quickly outside the barn. Later, Hazel had said that there was nothing for it but to cross the open pasture and under Silver's direction they had crossed it, with Dandelion running ahead to reconnoiter. When Fiver said the iron tree was harmless they believed him.

Strawberry had had a bad time. His misery made him slow-witted and careless and he was ashamed of the part he had played at the warren. He was soft and more used than he dared admit to indolence and good food. But he made no complaint and it was plain that he was determined to show what he could do and not to be left behind. He had proved useful in the woodland, being better accustomed to thick woods than any of the others. "He'll be all right, you know, if we give him a chance," said Hazel to Bigwig by the lake. "So he darned well ought to be," replied Bigwig, "the great dandy"-for by their standards Strawberry was scrupulously clean and fastidious. "Well, I won't have him brow-beaten, Bigwig, mind. That won't help him." This Bigwig had accepted, though rather sulkily. Yet he himself had become less overbearing. The snare had left him weak and overwrought. It was he who had given the alarm in the barn, for he could not sleep and at the sound of scratching had started up at once. He would not let Silver and Buckthorn fight alone, but he had felt obliged to leave the worst of it to them. For the first time in his life, Bigwig had found himself driven to moderation and prudence.

As the sun sank lower and touched the edge of the cloud belt on the horizon, Hazel came out from under the branches and looked carefully round the lower slope. Then he stared upward over the anthills, to the open down rising above. Fiver and Acorn followed him out and fell to nibbling at a patch of sainfoin. It was new to them, but they did not need to be told that it was good and it raised their spirits. Hazel turned back and joined them among the big, rosy-veined, magenta flower spikes.

"Fiver," he said, "let me get this right. You want us to climb up this place, however far it is, and find shelter on the top. Is that it?"

"Yes, Hazel."

"But the top must be very high. I can't even see it from here. It'll be open and cold."

"Not in the ground: and the soil's so light that we shall be able to scratch some shelter easily when we find the right place."

Hazel considered again. "It's getting started that bothers me. Here we are, all tired out. I'm sure it's dangerous to stay here. We've nowhere to run to. We don't know the country and we can't get underground. But it seems out of the question for everybody to climb up there tonight. We should be even less safe."

"We shall be forced to dig, shan't we?" said Acorn. "This place is almost as open as that heather we crossed, and the trees won't hide us from anything hunting on four feet."

"It would have been the same any time we came," said Fiver.

"I'm not saying anything against it, Fiver," replied Acorn, "but we need holes. It's a bad place not to be able to get underground."

"Before everyone goes up to the top," said Hazel, "we ought to find out what it's like. I'm going up myself to have a look round. I'll be as quick as I can and you'll have to hope for the best until I get back. You can rest and feed, anyway."

"You're not going alone," said Fiver firmly.

Since each one of them was ready to go with him in spite of their fatigue, Hazel gave in and chose Dandelion and Hawkbit, who seemed less weary than the others. They set out up the hillside, going slowly, picking their way from one bush and tussock to another and pausing continually to sniff and stare along the great expanse of grass, which stretched on either side as far as they could see.

A man walks upright. For him it is strenuous to climb a steep hill, because he has to keep pushing his own vertical mass upward and cannot gain any momentum. The rabbit is better off. His forelegs support his horizontal body and the great back legs do the work. They are more than equal to thrusting uphill the light mass in front of them. Rabbits can go fast uphill. In fact, they have so much power behind that they find going downhill awkward, and sometimes, in flight down a steep place, they may actually go head over heels. On the other hand, the man is five or six feet above the hillside and can see all round. To him the ground may be steep and rough but on the whole it is even, and he can pick his direction easily from the top of his moving, six-foot tower. The rabbits' anxieties and strain in climbing the down were different, therefore, from those which you, reader, will experience if you go there. Their main trouble was not bodily fatigue. When Hazel had said that they were all tired out, he had meant that they were feeling the strain of prolonged insecurity and fear.

Rabbits above ground, unless they are in proved, familiar surroundings close to their holes, live in continual fear. If it grows intense enough they can become glazed and paralyzed by it-"tharn," to use their own word. Hazel and his companions had been on the jump for nearly two days. Indeed, ever since they had left their home warren, five days before, they had faced one danger after another. They were all on edge, sometimes starting at nothing and, again, lying down in any patch of long grass that offered. Bigwig and Buckthorn smelled of blood and everyone else knew they did. What bothered Hazel, Dandelion and Hawkbit was the openness and strangeness of the down and their inability to see very far ahead. They climbed not over but through the sun-red grass, among the awakened insect movement and the light ablaze. The grass undulated about them. They peered over anthills and looked cautiously round clumps of teazle. They could not tell how far away the ridge might be. They topped each short slope only to find another above it. To Hazel, it seemed a likely place for a weasel: or the white owl, perhaps, might fly along the escarpment at twilight, looking inward with its stony eyes, ready to turn a few feet sideways and pick off the shelf anything that moved. Some elil wait for their prey, but the white owl is a seeker and he comes in silence.

As Hazel still went up, the south wind began to blow and the June sunset reddened the sky to the zenith. Hazel, like nearly all wild animals, was unaccustomed to look up at the sky. What he thought of as the sky was the horizon, usually broken by trees and hedges. Now, with his head pointing upward, he found himself gazing at the ridge, as over the skyline came the silent, moving, red-tinged cumuli. Their movement was disturbing, unlike that of trees or grass or rabbits. These great masses moved steadily, noiselessly and always in the same direction. They were not of his world.

"O Frith," thought Hazel, turning his head for a moment to the bright glow in the west, "are you sending us to live among the clouds? If you spoke truly to Fiver, help me to trust him." At this moment he saw Dandelion, who had run well ahead, squatting on an anthill clear against the sky. Alarmed, he dashed forward.

"Dandelion, get down!" he said. "Why are you sitting up there?"

"Because I can see," replied Dandelion, with a kind of excited joy. "Come and look! You can see the whole world."

Hazel came up to him. There was another anthill nearby and he copied Dandelion, sitting upright on his hind legs and looking about him. He realized now that they were almost on level ground. Indeed, the slope was no more than gentle for some way back along the line by which they had come; but he had been preoccupied with the idea of danger in the open and had not noticed the change. They were on top of the down. Perched above the grass, they could see far in every direction. Their surroundings were empty. If anything had been moving they would have seen it immediately: and where the turf ended, the sky began. A man, a fox-even a rabbit-coming over the down would be conspicuous. Fiver had been right. Up here, they would have clear warning of any approach.

The wind ruffled their fur and tugged at the grass, which smelled of thyme and self-heal. The solitude seemed like a release and a blessing. The height, the sky and the distance went to their heads and they skipped in the sunset. "O Frith on the hills!" cried Dandelion. "He must have made it for us!"

"He may have made it, but Fiver thought of it for us," answered Hazel. "Wait till we get him up here! Fiver-rah!"

"Where's Hawkbit?" said Dandelion suddenly.

Although the light was still clear, Hawkbit was not to be seen anywhere on the upland. After staring about for some time, they ran across to a little mound some way away and looked again. But they saw nothing except a field mouse, which came out of its hole and began furricking in a path of seeded grasses.

"He must have gone down," said Dandelion.

"Well, whether he has or not," said Hazel, "we can't go on looking for him. The others are waiting and they may be in danger. We must go down ourselves."

"What a shame to lose him, though," said Dandelion, "just when we'd reached Fiver's hills without losing anyone. He's such a duffer; we shouldn't have brought him up. But how could anything have got hold of him here, without our seeing?"

"No, he's gone back, for sure," said Hazel. "I wonder what Bigwig will say to him? I hope he won't bite him again. We'd better get on."

"Are you going to bring them up tonight?" asked Dandelion.

"I don't know," said Hazel. "It's a problem. Where's the shelter to be found?"

They made for the steep edge. The light was beginning to fail. They picked their direction by a clump of stunted trees which they had passed on their way up. These formed a kind of dry oasis-a little feature common on the downs. Half a dozen thorns and two or three elders grew together above and below a bank. Between them the ground was bare and the naked chalk showed a pallid, dirty white under the cream-colored elder bloom. As they approached, they suddenly saw Hawkbit sitting among the thorn trunks, cleaning his face with his paws.

"We've been looking for you," said Hazel. "Where in the world have you been?"

"I'm sorry, Hazel," replied Hawkbit meekly. "I've been looking at these holes. I thought they might be some good to us."

In the low bank behind him were three rabbit holes. There were two more flat on the ground, between the thick, gnarled roots. They could see no footmarks and no droppings. The holes were clearly deserted.

"Have you been down?" asked Hazel, sniffing round.

"Yes, I have," said Hawkbit. "Three of them, anyway. They're shallow and rather rough, but there's no smell of death or disease and they're perfectly sound. I thought they might do for us-just for the moment, anyway."

In the twilight a swift flew screaming overhead and Hazel turned to Dandelion.

"News! News!" he said. "Go and get them up here."

Thus it fell to one of the rank and file to make a lucky find that brought them at last to the downs: and probably saved a life or two, for they could hardly have spent the night in the open, either on or under the hill, without being attacked by some enemy or other.

19. Fear in the Dark

The holes certainly were rough-"Just right for a lot of vagabonds[9] like us," said Bigwig-but the exhausted and those who wander in strange country are not particular about therr quarters. At least there was room for twelve rabbits and the burrows were dry. Two of the runs-the ones among the thorn trees-led straight down to burrows scooped out of the top of the chalk subsoil. Rabbits do not line their sleeping places and a hard, almost rocky floor is uncomfortable for those not accustomed to it. The holes in the bank, however, had runs of the usual bow shape, leading down to the chalk and then curving up again to burrows with floors of trampled earth. There were no connecting passages, but the rabbits were too weary to care. They slept four to a burrow, snug and secure. Hazel remained awake for some time, licking Buckthorn's leg, which was stiff and tender. He was reassured to find no smell of infection, but all that he had ever heard about rats decided him to see that Buckthorn got a good deal of rest and was kept out of the dirt until the wound was better. "That's the third one of us to get hurt: still, all in all, things could have been far worse," he thought, as he fell asleep.

The short June darkness slipped by in a few hours. The light returned early to the high down, but the rabbits did not stir. Well after dawn they were still sleeping, undisturbed in a silence deeper than they had ever known. Nowadays, among fields and woods, the noise level by day is high-too high for some kinds of animal to tolerate. Few places are far from human noise-cars, buses, motorcycles, tractors, lorries. The sound of a housing estate in the morning is audible a long way off. People who record birdsong generally do it very early-before six o'clock-if they can. Soon after that, the invasion of distant noise in most woodland becomes too constant and too loud. During the last fifty years the silence of much of the country has been destroyed. But here, on Watership Down, there floated up only faint traces of the daylight noise below.

The sun was well up, though not yet as high as the down, when Hazel woke. With him in the burrow were Buckthorn, Fiver and Pipkin. He was nearest to the mouth of the hole and did not wake them as he slipped up the run. Outside, he stopped to pass hraka and then hopped through the thorn patch to the open grass. Below, the country was covered with early-morning mist which was beginning to clear. Here and there, far off, were the shapes of trees and roofs, from which streamers of mist trailed down like broken waves pouring from rocks. The sky was cloudless and deep blue, darkening to mauve along the whole rim of the horizon. The wind had dropped and the spiders had already gone well down into the grass. It was going to be a hot day.

Hazel rambled about in the usual way of a rabbit feeding-five or six slow, rocking hops through the grass; a pause to look round, sitting up with ears erect; then busy nibbling for a short time, followed by another move of a few yards. For the first time for many days he felt relaxed and safe. He began to wonder whether they had much to learn about their new home.

"Fiver was right," he thought. "This is the place for us. But we shall need to get used to it and the fewer mistakes we make the better. I wonder what became of the rabbits who made these holes? Did they stop running or did they just move away? If we could only find them they could tell us a lot."

At this moment he saw a rabbit come rather hesitantly out of the hole furthest from himself. It was Blackberry. He, too, passed hraka, scratched himself and then hopped into the full sunlight and combed his ears. As he began to feed, Hazel came up and fell in with him, nibbling among the grass tussocks and wandering on wherever his friend pleased. They came to a patch of milkwort-a blue as deep as that of the sky-with long stems creeping through the grass and each minute flower spreading its two upper petals like wings. Blackberry sniffed at it, but the leaves were tough and unappetizing.

"What is this stuff, do you know?" he asked.

"No, I don't," said Hazel. "I've never seen it before."

"There's a lot we don't know," said Blackberry. "About this place, I mean. The plants are new, the smells are new. We're going to need some new ideas ourselves."

"Well, you're the fellow for ideas," said Hazel. "I never know anything until you tell me."

"But you go in front and take the risks first," answered Blackberry. "We've all seen that. And now our journey's over, isn't it? This place is as safe as Fiver said it would be. Nothing can get near us without our knowing: that is, as long as we can smell and see and hear."

"We can all do that."

"Not when we're asleep: and we can't see in the dark."

"It's bound to be dark at night," said Hazel, "and rabbits have got to sleep."

"In the open?"

"Well, we can go on using these holes if we want to, but I expect a good many will lie out. After all, you can't expect a bunch of bucks to dig. They might make a scrape or two-like that day after we came over the heather-but they won't do more than that."

"That's what I've been thinking about," said Blackberry. "Those rabbits we left-Cowslip and the rest-a lot of the things they did weren't natural to rabbits-pushing stones into the earth and carrying food underground and Frith knows what."

"The Threarah's lettuce was carried underground, if it comes to that."

"Exactly. Don't you see, they'd altered what rabbits do naturally because they thought they could do better? And if they altered their ways, so can we if we like. You say buck rabbits don't dig. Nor they do. But they could, if they wanted to. Suppose we had deep, comfortable burrows to sleep in? To be out of bad weather and underground at night? Then we would be safe. And there's nothing to stop us having them, except that buck rabbits won't dig. Not can't-won't."

"What's your idea, then?" asked Hazel, half interested and half reluctant. "Do you want us to try to turn these holes into a regular warren?"

"No, these holes won't do. It's easy to see why they've been deserted. Only a little way down and you come to this hard white stuff that no one can dig. They must be bitterly cold in winter. But there's a wood just over the top of the hill. I got a glimpse of it last night when we came. Suppose we go up higher now, just you and I, and have a look at it?"

They ran uphill to the summit. The beech hanger lay some little way off to the southeast, on the far side of a grassy track that ran along the ridge.

"There are some big trees there," said Blackberry. "The roots must have broken up the ground pretty deep. We could dig holes and be as well off as ever we were in the old warren. But if Bigwig and the others won't dig or say they can't-well, it's bare and bleak here. That's why it's lonely and safe, of course; but when bad weather comes we shall be driven off the hills for sure."

"It never entered my head to try to make a lot of bucks dig regular holes," said Hazel doubtfully, as they returned down the slope. "Rabbit kittens need holes, of course; but do we?"

"We were all born in a warren that was dug before our mothers were born," said Blackberry. "We're used to holes and not one of us has ever helped to dig one. And if ever there was a new one, who dug it? A doe. I'm quite sure, myself, that if we don't change our natural ways we shan't be able to stay here very long. Somewhere else, perhaps; but not here."

"It'll mean a lot of work."

"Look, there's Bigwig come up now and some of the others with him. Why not put it to them and see what they say?"

During silflay, however, Hazel mentioned Blackberry's idea to no one but Fiver. Later on, when most of the rabbits had finished feeding and were either playing in the grass or lying in the sunshine, he suggested that they might go across to the hanger-"Just to see what sort of a wood it is." Bigwig and Silver agreed at once and in the end no one stayed behind.

It was different from the meadow copses they had left: a narrow belt of trees, four or five hundred yards long but barely fifty wide; a kind of windbreak common on the downs. It consisted almost entirely of well-grown beeches. The great, smooth trunks stood motionless in their green shade, the branches spreading flat, one above another in crisp, light-dappled tiers. Between the trees the ground was open and offered hardly any cover. The rabbits were perplexed. They could not make out why the wood was so light and still and why they could see so far between the trees. The continuous, gentle rustling of the beech leaves was unlike the sounds to be heard in a copse of nut bushes, oak and silver birch.

Moving uncertainly in and out along the edge of the hanger, they came to the northeast corner. Here there was a bank from which they looked out over the empty stretches of grass beyond. Fiver, absurdly small beside the hulking Bigwig, turned to Hazel with an air of happy confidence.

"I'm sure Blackberry's right, Hazel," he said. "We ought to do our best to make some holes here. I'm ready to try, anyway."

The others were taken aback. Pipkin, however, readily joined Hazel at the foot of the bank and soon two or three more began scratching at the light soil. The digging was easy and although they often broke off to feed or merely to sit in the sun, before midday Hazel was out of sight and tunneling between the tree roots.

The hanger might have little or no undergrowth but at least the branches gave cover from the sky: and kestrels, they soon realized, were common in this solitude. Although kestrels seldom prey on anything bigger than a rat, they will sometimes attack young rabbits. No doubt this is why most grown rabbits will not remain under a hovering kestrel. Before long, Acorn spotted one as it flew up from the south. He stamped and bolted into the trees, followed by the other rabbits who were in the open. They had not long come out and resumed digging when they saw another-or perhaps the same one-hovering some way off, high over the very fields that they had crossed the previous morning. Hazel placed Buckthorn as a sentry while the day's haphazard work went on, and twice more during the afternoon the alarm was given. In the early evening they were disturbed by a horseman cantering along the ridge track that passed the north end of the wood. Otherwise they saw nothing larger than a pigeon all day.

After the horseman had turned south near the summit of Watership and disappeared in the distance, Hazel returned to the edge of the wood and looked out northward toward the bright, still fields and the dim pylon line stalking away into the distance north of Kingsclere. The air was cooler and the sun was beginning once more to reach the north escarpment.

"I think we've done enough," he said, "for today, anyway. I should like to go down to the bottom of the hill and find some really good grass. This stuff's all right in its way but it's rather thin and dry. Does anyone feel like coming with me?"

Bigwig, Dandelion and Speedwell were ready, but the others preferred to graze their way back to the thorn trees and go underground with the sun. Bigwig and Hazel picked the line that offered most cover and, with the others following, set out on the four or five hundred yards to the foot of the hill. They met no trouble and were soon feeding in the grass at the edge of the wheatfield, the very picture of rabbits in an evening landscape. Hazel, tired though he was, did not forget to look for somewhere to bolt if there should be an alarm. He was lucky enough to come upon a short length of old, overgrown ditch, partly fallen in and so heavily overhung with cow parsley and nettles that it was almost as sheltered as a tunnel; and all four of them made sure that they could reach it quickly from the open.

"That'll be good enough at a pinch," said Bigwig, munching clover and sniffing at the fallen bloom from a wayfaring tree. "My goodness, we've learned a few things since we left the old warren, haven't we? More than we'd have learned in a lifetime back there. And digging! It'll be flying next, I suppose. Have you noticed that this soil's quite different from the soil in the old warren? It smells differently and it slides and falls quite differently, too."

"That reminds me," said Hazel. "I meant to ask you. There was one thing at that terrible warren of Cowslip's that I admired very much-the great burrow. I'd like to copy it. It's a wonderful idea to have a place underground where everybody can be together-talk and tell stories and so on. What do you think? Could it be done?"

Bigwig considered. "I know this," he said. "If you make a burrow too big the roof starts falling in. So if you want a place like that you'll need something to hold the roof up. What did Cowslip have?"

"Tree roots."

"Well, there are those where we're digging. But are they the right sort?"

"We'd better get Strawberry to tell us what he knows about the great burrow; but it may not be much, I'm sure he wasn't alive when it was dug."

"He may not be dead when it falls in either. That warren's tharn as an owl in daylight. He was wise to leave when he did."

Twilight had fallen over the cornfield, for although long red rays still lit the upper down, the sun had set below. The uneven shadow of the hedge had faded and disappeared. There was a cool smell of moisture and approaching darkness. A cockchafer droned past. The grasshoppers had fallen silent.

"Owls'll be out," said Bigwig. "Let's go up again."

At this moment, from out in the darkening field, there came the sound of a stamp on the ground. It was followed by another, closer to them, and they caught a glimpse of a white tail. They both immediately ran to the ditch. Now that they had to use it in earnest, they found it even narrower than they had thought. There was just room to turn round at the far end and as they did so Speedwell and Dandelion tumbled in behind them.

"What is it?" asked Hazel. "What did you hear?"

"There's something coming up the line of the hedge," replied Speedwell. "An animal. Making a lot of noise, too."

"Did you see it?"

"No, and I couldn't smell it either. It's downwind. But I heard it plainly enough."

"I heard it, too," said Dandelion. "Something fairly big-as big as a rabbit, anyway-moving clumsily but trying to keep concealed, or so it seemed to me."

"Homba?"

"No, that we should have smelled," said Bigwig, "wind or no wind. From what you say, it sounds like a cat. I hope it's not a stoat. Hoi, hoi, u embleer hrair! What a nuisance! We'd better sit tight for a bit. But get ready to bolt if it spots us."

They waited. Soon it grew dark. Only the faintest light came through the tangled summer growth above them. The far end of the ditch was so much overgrown that they could not see out of it, but the place where they had come in showed as a patch of sky-an arc of very dark blue. As the time passed, a star crept out from among the overhanging grasses. It seemed to pulsate in a rhythm as faint and uneven as that of the wind. At length Hazel turned his eyes away from watching it.

"Well, we can snatch some sleep here," he said. "The night's not cold. Whatever it was you heard, we'd better not risk going out."

"Listen," said Dandelion. "What's that?"

For a moment Hazel could hear nothing. Then he caught a distant but clear sound-a kind of wailing or crying, wavering and intermittent. Although it did not sound like any sort of hunting call, it was so unnatural that it filled him with fear. As he listened, it ceased.

"What in Frith's name makes a noise like that?" said Bigwig, his great fur cap hackling between his ears.

"A cat?" said Speedwell, wide-eyed.

"That's no cat!" said Bigwig, his lips drawn back in a stiffened, unnatural grimace, "That's no cat! Don't you know what it is? Your mother-" He broke off. Then he said, very low, "Your mother told you, didn't she?"

"No!" cried Dandelion. "No! It's some bird-some rat-wounded-"

Bigwig stood up. His back was arched and his head nodded on his stiffened neck.

"The Black Rabbit of Inlé," he whispered, "What else-in a place like this?"

"Don't talk like that!" said Hazel. He could feel himself trembling, and braced his legs against the sides of the narrow cut.

Suddenly the noise sounded again, nearer: and now there could be no mistake. What they heard was the voice of a rabbit, but changed out of all recognition. It might have come from the cold spaces of the dark sky outside, so unearthly and desolate was the sound. At first there was only a wailing. Then, distinct and beyond mistaking, they heard-they all heard-words.

"Zorn![10] Zorn!" cried the dreadful, squealing voice. "All dead! O zorn!"

Dandelion whimpered. Bigwig was scuffling into the ground.

"Be quiet!" said Hazel. "And stop kicking that earth over me! I want to listen,"

At that moment, quite distinctly, the voice cried, "Thlayli! O Thlayli!"

At this, all four rabbits felt the trance of utter panic. They grew rigid. Then Bigwig, his eyes set in a fixed, glazed stare, began to jerk his way up the ditch toward the opening. "You have to go," he muttered, so thickly that Hazel could hardly catch the words. "You have to go when he calls you."

Hazel felt so much frightened that he could no longer collect his wits. As on the riverbank, his surroundings became unreal and dream-like. Who-or what-was calling Bigwig by name? How could any living creature in this place know his name? Only one idea remained to him-Bigwig must be prevented from going out, for he was helpless. He scrambled past him, pressing him against the side of the ditch.

"Stay where you are," he said, panting, "Whatever sort of rabbit it is, I'm going to see for myself." Then, his legs almost giving way beneath him, he pulled himself out into the open.

For a few moments he could see little or nothing; but the smells of dew and elder bloom were unchanged and his nose brushed against cool grass blades. He sat up and looked about him. There was no creature nearby.

"Who's there?" he said.

There was silence, and he was about to speak again when the voice replied, "Zorn! O zorn!"

It came from the hedge along the side of the field. Hazel turned toward the sound and in a few moments made out, under a clump of hemlock, the hunched shape of a rabbit. He approached it and said, "Who are you?" but there was no reply. As he hesitated, he heard a movement behind him.

"I'm here, Hazel," said Dandelion, in a kind of choking gasp.

Together they went closer. The figure did not move as they came up. In the faint starlight they both saw a rabbit as real as themselves: a rabbit in the last stages of exhaustion, its back legs trailing behind its flattened rump as though paralyzed: a rabbit that stared, white-eyed, from one side to the other, seeing nothing, yet finding no respite from its fear, and then fell to licking wretchedly at one ripped and bloody ear that drooped across its face: a rabbit that suddenly cried and wailed as though entreating the Thousand to come from every quarter to rid it of a misery too terrible to be borne.

It was Captain Holly of the Sandleford Owsla.

20. A Honeycomb and a Mouse

In the Sandleford warren, Holly had been a rabbit of consequence. He was greatly relied upon by the Threarah and had more than once carried out difficult orders with a good deal of courage. During the early spring, when a fox had moved into a neighboring copse, Holly, with two or three volunteers, had kept it steadily under observation for several days and reported all its movements, until one evening it left as suddenly as it had come. Although he had decided on his own initiative to arrest Bigwig, he had not the reputation of being vindictive. He was, rather, a stander of no nonsense who knew when duty was done and did it himself. Sound, unassuming, conscientious, a bit lacking in the rabbit sense of mischief, he was something of the born second-in-command. There could have been no question of trying to persuade him to leave the warren with Hazel and Fiver. To find him under Watership Down at all, therefore, was astonishing enough. But to find him in such a condition was all but incredible.

In the first moments after they had recognized the poor creature under the hemlock, Hazel and Dandelion felt completely stupefied, as though they had come upon a squirrel underground or a stream that flowed uphill. They could not trust their senses. The voice in the dark had proved not to be supernatural, but the reality was frightening enough. How could Captain Holly be here, at the foot of the down? And what could have reduced him-of all rabbits-to this state?

Hazel pulled himself together. Whatever the explanation might be, the immediate need was to take first things first. They were in open country, at night, away from any refuge but an overgrown ditch, with a rabbit who smelled of blood, was crying uncontrollably and looked as though he could not move. There might very well be a stoat on his trail at this moment. If they were going to help him they had better be quick.

"Go and tell Bigwig who it is," he said to Dandelion, "and come back with him. Send Speedwell up the hill to the others and tell him to make it clear that no one is to come down. They couldn't help and it would only add to the risk."

Dandelion had no sooner gone than Hazel became aware that something else was moving in the hedge. But he had no time to wonder what it might be, for almost immediately another rabbit appeared and limped to where Holly was lying.

"You must help us if you can," he said to Hazel. "We've had a very bad time and my master's ill. Can we get underground here?"

Hazel recognized him as one of the rabbits who had come to arrest Bigwig, but he did not know his name.

"Why did you stay in the hedge and leave him to crawl about in the open?" he asked.

"I ran away when I heard you coming," replied the other rabbit. "I couldn't get the captain to move. I thought you were elil and there was no point in staying to be killed. I don't think I could fight a field mouse."

"Do you know me?" said Hazel. But before the other could answer, Dandelion and Bigwig came out of the darkness. Bigwig stared at Holly for a moment and then crouched before him and touched noses.

"Holly, this is Thlayli," he said. "You were calling me."

Holly did not answer, but only stared fixedly back at him. Bigwig looked up. "Who's that who came with him?" he said. "Oh, it's you, Bluebell. How many more of you?"

"No more," said Bluebell. He was about to go on when Holly spoke.

"Thlayli," he said. "So we have found you."

He sat up with difficulty and looked around at them.

"You're Hazel, aren't you?" he asked. "And that's-oh, I should know, but I'm in very poor shape, I'm afraid."

"It's Dandelion," said Hazel. "Listen-I can see that you're exhausted, but we can't stay here. We're in danger. Can you come with us to our holes?"

"Captain," said Bluebell, "do you know what the first blade of grass said to the second blade of grass?"

Hazel looked at him sharply, but Holly replied, "Well?"

"It said, 'Look, there's a rabbit! We're in danger! »

"This is no time-" began Hazel.

"Don't silence him," said Holly. "We wouldn't be here at all without his blue tit's chatter. Yes, I can go now. Is it far?"

"Not too far," said Hazel, thinking it all too likely that Holly would never get there.

It took a long time to climb the hill. Hazel made them separate, himself remaining with Holly and Bluebell while Bigwig and Dandelion went out to either side. Holly was forced to stop several times and Hazel, full of fear, had hard work to suppress his impatience. Only when the moon began to rise-the edge of its great disc growing brighter and brighter on the skyline below and behind them-did he at last beg Holly to hurry. As he spoke he saw, in the white light, Pipkin coming down to meet them.

"What are you doing?" he said sternly. "I told Speedwell no one was to come down."

"It isn't Speedwell's fault," said Pipkin. "You stood by me at the river, so I thought I'd come and look for you, Hazel. Anyway, the holes are just here. Is it really Captain Holly you've found?"

Bigwig and Dandelion approached.

"I'll tell you what," said Bigwig. "These two will need to rest for a good long time. Suppose Pipkin here and Dandelion take them to an empty burrow and stay with them as long as they want? The rest of us had better keep away until they feel better."

"Yes, that's best," said Hazel. "I'll go up with you now."

They ran the short distance to the thorn trees. All the other rabbits were above ground, waiting and whispering together.

"Shut up," said Bigwig, before anyone had asked a question. "Yes, it is Holly, and Bluebell is with him-no one else. They're in a bad way and they're not to be troubled. We'll leave this hole empty for them. Now I'm going underground myself and so will you if you've got any sense."

But before he went, Bigwig turned to Hazel and said, "You got yourself out of that ditch down there instead of me, didn't you, Hazel? I shan't forget that."

Hazel remembered Buckthorn's leg and took him down with him. Speedwell and Silver followed them.

"I say, what's happened, Hazel?" asked Silver. "It must be something very bad. Holly would never leave the Threarah."

"I don't know," replied Hazel, "and neither does anyone else yet. We'll have to wait until tomorow. Holly may stop running, but I don't think Bluebell will. Now let me alone to do this leg of Buckthorn's."

The wound was a great deal better and soon Hazel fell asleep.

The next day was as hot and cloudless as the last. Neither Pipkin nor Dandelion was at morning silflay; and Hazel relentlessly took the others up to the beech hanger to go on with the digging. He questioned Strawberry about the great burrow and learned that its ceiling, as well as being vaulted with a tangle of fibers, was strengthened by roots going vertically down into the floor. He remarked that he had not noticed these.

"There aren't many, but they're important," said Strawberry. "They take a lot of the load. If it weren't for those roots the ceiling would fall after heavy rain. On stormy nights you could sense the extra weight in the earth above, but there was no danger."

Hazel and Bigwig went underground with him. The beginnings of the new warren had been hollowed out among the roots of one of the beech trees. It was still no more than a small, irregular cave with one entrance. They set to work to enlarge it, digging between the roots and tunneling upward to make a second run that would emerge inside the wood. After a time Strawberry stopped digging and began moving about between the roots, sniffing, biting and scuffling in the soil with his front paws. Hazel supposed that he was tired and pretending to be busy while he had a rest, but at length he came back to them and said that he had some suggestions.

"It's this way," he explained. "There isn't a big spread of fine roots above here. That was a lucky chance in the great burrow and I don't think you can expect to find it again. But, all the same, we can do pretty well with what we've got."

"And what have we got?" asked Blackberry, who had come down the run while he was talking.

"Well, we've got several thick roots that go straight down-more than there were in the great burrow. The best thing will be to dig round them and leave them. They shouldn't be gnawed through and taken out. We shall need them if we're going to have a hall of any size."

"Then our hall will be full of these thick, vertical roots?" asked Hazel. He felt disappointed.

"Yes, it will," said Strawberry, "but I can't see that it's going to be any the worse for that. We can go in and out among them and they won't hinder anyone who's talking or telling a story. They'll make the place warmer and they'll help to conduct sound from above, which might be useful some time or other."

The excavation of the hall (which came to be known among them as the Honeycomb) turned out to be something of a triumph for Strawberry. Hazel contented himself with organizing the diggers and left it to Strawberry to say what was actually to be done. The work went on in shifts and the rabbits took it in turns to feed, play and lie in the sun above ground. Throughout the day the solitude remained unbroken by noise, men, tractors, or even cattle, and they began to feel still more deeply what they owed to Fiver's insight. By the late afternoon the big burrow was beginning to take shape. At the north end, the beech roots formed a kind of irregular colonnade. This gave way to a more open central space: and beyond, where there were no supporting roots, Strawberry left blocks of the earth untouched, so that the south end consisted of three or four separate bays. These narrowed into low-roofed runs that led away into sleeping burrows.

Hazel, much better pleased now that he could see for himself how the business was going to turn out, was sitting with Silver in the mouth of the run when suddenly there was a stamping of "Hawk! Hawk!" and a dash for cover by the rabbits outside. Hazel, safe where he was, remained looking out past the shadow of the wood to the open, sunlit grass beyond. The kestrel sailed into view and took up station, the black-edged flange of its tail bent down and its pointed wings beating rapidly as it searched the down below.

"But do you think it would attack us?" asked Hazel, watching it drop lower and recommence its poised fluttering. "Surely it's too small?"

"You're probably right," replied Silver. "All the same, would you care to go out there and start feeding?"

"I'd like to try standing up to some of these elil," said Bigwig, who had come up the run behind them. "We're afraid of too many. But a bird from the air would be awkward, especially if it came fast. It might get the better of even a big rabbit if it took him by surprise."

"See the mouse?" said Silver suddenly. "There, look. Poor little beast."

They could all see the field mouse, which was exposed in a patch of smooth grass. It had evidently strayed too far from its hole and now could not tell what to do. The kestrel's shadow had not passed over it, but the rabbits' sudden disappearance had made it uneasy and it was pressed to the ground, looking uncertainly this way and that. The kestrel had not yet seen it, but could hardly fail to do so as soon as it moved.

"Any moment now," said Bigwig callously.

On an impulse, Hazel hopped down the bank and went a little way into the open grass. Mice do not speak Lapine, but there is a very simple, limited lingua franca of the hedgerow and woodland. Hazel used it now.

"Run," he said. "Here; quick."

The mouse looked at him, but did not move. Hazel spoke again and the mouse began suddenly to run toward him as the kestrel turned and slid sideways and downward. Hazel hastened back to the hole. Looking out, he saw the mouse following him. When it had almost reached the foot of the bank it scuttered over a fallen twig with two or three green leaves. The twig turned, one of the leaves caught the sunlight slanting through the trees and Hazel saw it flash for an instant. Immediately the kestrel came lower in an oblique glide, closed its wings and dropped.

Before Hazel could spring back from the mouth of the hole, the mouse had dashed between his front paws and was pressed to the ground between his back legs. At the same moment the kestrel, all beak and talons, hit the loose earth immediately outside like a missile thrown from the tree above. It scuffled savagely and for an instant the three rabbits saw its round, dark eyes looking straight down the run. Then it was gone. The speed and force of the pounce, not a length away, were terrifying and Hazel leaped backward, knocking Silver off his balance. They picked themselves up in silence.

"Like to try standing up to that one?" said Silver, looking round at Bigwig. "Let me know when. I" ll come and watch."

"Hazel," said Bigwig, "I know you're not stupid, but what did we get out of that? Are you going in for protecting every mole and shrew that can't get underground?"

The mouse had not moved. It was still crouching a little inside the run, on a level with their heads and outlined against the light. Hazel could see it watching him.

"Perhaps hawk not gone," he said. "You stay now. Go later."

Bigwig was about to speak again when Dandelion appeared in the mouth of the hole. He looked at the mouse, pushed it gently aside and came down the run.

"Hazel," he said, "I thought I ought to come and tell you about Holly. He's much better this evening, but he had a very bad night and so did we. Every time he seemed to be going to sleep, he kept starting up and crying. I thought he was going out of his mind. Pipkin kept talking to him-he was first-rate-and he seems to set a lot of store by Bluebell. Bluebell kept on making jokes. He was worn out before the morning and so were the lot of us-we've been sleeping all day. Holly's been more or less himself since he woke up this afternoon, and he's been up to silflay. He asked where you and the others would be tonight and, as I didn't know, I came to ask."

"Is he fit to talk to us, then?" asked Bigwig.

"I think so. It would be the best thing for him, if I'm any judge: and if he was with all of us together he'd be less likely to have another bad night."

"Well, where are we going to sleep?" said Silver.

Hazel considered. The Honeycomb was still rough-dug and half finished, but it would probably be as comfortable as the holes under the thorn trees. Besides, if it proved otherwise, they would have all the more inducement to improve it. To know that they were actually making use of their day's hard work would please everybody and they were likely to prefer this to a third night in the chalk holes.

"I should think here," he said. "But we'll see how the others feel."

"What's this mouse doing in here?" asked Dandelion.

Hazel explained. Dandelion was as puzzled as Bigwig had been.

"Well, I'll admit I hadn't any particular idea when I went out to help it," said Hazel. "I have now, though, and I'll explain later what it is. But, first of all, Bigwig and I ought to go and talk to Holly. And, Dandelion, you go and tell the rest what you told me, will you, and see what they want to do tonight?"

They found Holly with Bluebell and Pipkin, on the turf by the anthill where Dandelion had first looked over the down. Holly was sniffing at a purple orchis. The head of mauve blooms rocked gently on its stem as he pushed his nose against it.

"Don't frighten it, master," said Bluebell. "It might fly away. After all, it's got a lot of spots to choose from. Look at them all over the leaves."

"Oh, get along with you, Bluebell," answered Holly, good-humoredly. "We need to learn about the ground here. Half the plants are strange to me. This isn't one to eat, but at least there's plenty of burnet and that's always good." A fly settled on his wounded ear and he winced and shook his head.

Hazel was glad to see that Holly was evidently in better spirits. He began to say that he hoped he felt well enough to join the others, but Holly soon interrupted him with questions.

"Are there many of you?" he asked.

"Hrair," said Bigwig.

"All that left the warren with you?"

"Every one," replied Hazel proudly.

"No one hurt?"

"Oh, several have been hurt, one way and another."

"Never a dull moment, really," said Bigwig.

"Who's this coming? I don't know him."

Strawberry came running down from the hanger and as he joined them began to make the same curious dancing gesture of head and forepaws which they had first seen in the rainy meadow before they entered the great burrow. He checked himself in some confusion and, to forestall Bigwig's rebuke, spoke to Hazel at once.

"Hazel-rah," he said (Holly looked startled, but said nothing), "everyone wants to stay in the new warren tonight: and they're all hoping that Captain Holly will feel able to tell them what's happened and how he came here."

"Well, naturally, we all want to know," said Hazel to Holly. "This is Strawberry. He joined us on our journey and we've been glad to have him. But do you think you can manage it?"

"I can manage it," said Holly. "But I must warn you that it will strike the frost into the heart of every rabbit that hears it."

He himself looked so sad and dark as he spoke that no one made any reply, and after a few moments all six rabbits made their way up the slope in silence. When they reached the corner of the wood, they found the others feeding or basking in the evening sun on the north side of the beech trees. After a glance round among them Holly went up to Silver, who was feeding with Fiver in a patch of yellow trefoil.

"I'm glad to see you here, Silver," he said. "I hear you've had a rough time."

"It hasn't been easy," answered Silver. "Hazel's done wonders and we owe a lot to Fiver here as well."

"I've heard of you," said Holly, turning to Fiver. "You're the rabbit who saw it all coming. You talked to the Threarah, didn't you?"

"He talked to me," said Fiver.

"If only he'd listened to you! Well, it can't be changed now, till acorns grow on thistles. Silver, there's something I want to say and I can say it more easily to you than to Hazel or Bigwig. I'm not out to make any trouble here-trouble for Hazel, I mean. He's your Chief Rabbit now, that's plain. I hardly know him, but he must be good or you'd all be dead; and this is no time to be squabbling. If any of the other rabbits are wondering whether I might want to alter things, will you let them know that I shan't?"

"Yes, I will," said Silver.

Bigwig came up. "I know it's not owl time yet," he said, "but everyone's so eager to hear you, Holly, that they want to go underground at once. Will that suit you?"

"Underground?" replied Holly. "But how can you all hear me underground? I was expecting to talk here."

"Come and see," said Bigwig.

Holly and Bluebell were impressed by the Honeycomb.

"This is something quite new," said Holly. "What keeps the roof up?"

"It doesn't need to be kept up," said Bluebell. "It's right up the hill already."

"An idea we found on the way," said Bigwig.

"Lying in a field," said Bluebell. "It's all right, master, I'll be quiet while you're speaking."

"Yes, you must," said Holly. "Soon no one will want jokes."

Almost all the rabbits had followed them down. The Honeycomb, though big enough for everybody, was not so airy as the great burrow and on this June evening it seemed somewhat close.

"We can easily make it cooler, you know," said Strawberry to Hazel. "In the great burrow they used to open tunnels for the summer and close them for the winter. We can dig another run on the evening side tomorrow and pick up the breeze."

Hazel was just going to ask Holly to begin when Speedwell came down the eastern run. "Hazel," he said, "your-er-visitor-your mouse. He wants to speak to you."

"Oh, I'd forgotten him," said Hazel. "Where is he?"

"Up the run."

Hazel went up. The mouse was waiting at the top.

"You go now?" said Hazel. "You think safe?"

"Go now," said the mouse. "No wait owl. But a what I like a say. You 'elp a mouse. One time a mouse 'elp a you. You want 'im 'e come."

"Frith in a pond!" muttered Bigwig, further down the run. "And so will all his brothers and sisters. I dare say the place'll be crawling. Why don't you ask them to dig us a burrow or two, Hazel?"

Hazel watched the mouse make off into the long grass. Then he returned to the Honeycomb and settled down near Holly, who had just begun to speak.

21. "For El-ahrairah to Cry"

"The night you left the warren, the Owsla were turned out to look for you. How long ago it seems now! We followed your scent down to the brook, but when we told the Threarah that you appeared to have set off downstream, he said there was no point in risking lives by following you. If you were gone, you were gone. But anyone who came back was to be arrested. So then I called off the search.

"Nothing unusual happened the next day. There was a certain amount of talk about Fiver and the rabbits who'd gone with him. Everyone knew that Fiver had said that something bad was going to happen and all sorts of rumors started. A lot of rabbits said there was nothing in it, but some thought that Fiver might have foreseen men with guns and ferrets. That was the worst thing anyone could think of-that or the white blindness.

" Willow and I talked things over with the Threarah. 'These rabbits, he said, 'who claim to have the second sight-I've known one or two in my time. But it's not usually advisable to take much notice of them. For one thing, many are just plain mischievous. A weak rabbit who can't hope to get far by fighting sometimes tries to make himself important by other means and prophecy is a favorite. The curious thing is that when he turns out to be wrong, his friends seldom seem to notice, as long as he puts on a good act and keeps talking. But then again, you may get a rabbit who really has this odd power, for it does exist. He foretells a flood perhaps, or ferrets and guns. All right; so a certain number of rabbits will stop running. What's the alternative? To evacuate a warren is a tremendous business. Some refuse to go. The Chief Rabbit leaves with as many as will come. His authority is likely to be put to the most severe test and if he loses it he won't get it back in a hurry. At the best, you've got a big bunch of hlessil trailing round in the open, probably with does and kittens tacked on. Elil appear in hordes. The remedy's worse than the disease. Almost always, it's better for the warren as a whole if rabbits sit tight and do their best to dodge their dangers underground. »

"Of course, I never sat down and thought," said Fiver. "It would take the Threarah to think all that out. I simply had the screaming horrors. Great golden Frith, I hope I never have them like that again! I shall never forget it-that and the night I spent under the yew tree. There's terrible evil in the world."

"It comes from men," said Holly. "All other elil do what they have to do and Frith moves them as he moves us. They live on the earth and they need food. Men will never rest till they've spoiled the earth and destroyed the animals. But I'd better go on with this tale of mine.

"The next day in the afternoon, it began to rain.

("Those scrapes we dug in the bank," whispered Buckthorn to Dandelion.)

"Everyone was underground, just chewing pellets or sleeping. I'd gone up for a few minutes to pass hraka. I was on the edge of the wood, quite near the ditch, when I saw some men come through the gate at the top of the opposite slope, up by that board thing. I don't know how many there were-three or four, I suppose. They had long black legs and they were burning white sticks in their mouths. They didn't seem to be going anywhere. They began walking slowly about in the rain, looking at the hedges and the brook. After a time they crossed the brook and came clumping up toward the warren. Whenever they came to a rabbit hole, one of them would prod at it; and they kept talking all the time. I remember the smell of the elder bloom in the rain and the smell of the white sticks. Later, when they came closer, I slipped underground again. I could hear them for some time, thumping about and talking. I kept thinking, 'Well, they've got no guns and no ferrets. But somehow I didn't like it."

"What did the Threarah say?" asked Silver.

"I've no idea. I didn't ask him and neither did anyone else, as far as I know. I went to sleep and when I woke there was no sound up above. It was evening and I decided to silflay. The rain had settled in, but I pottered round and fed for a while all the same. I couldn't see that anything was altered, except that here and there the mouth of a hole had been poked in.

"The next morning was clear and fine. Everyone was out for silflay as usual. I remember Nightshade told the Threarah that he ought to be careful not to tire himself now that he was getting on in years: and the Threarah said he'd show him who was getting on in years and cuffed him and pushed him down the bank. It was all quite good-humored, you know, but he did it just to show Nightshade that the Chief Rabbit was still a match for him. I was going out for lettuces that morning and for some reason or other I'd decided to go alone."

"Three's the usual number for a lettuce party," said Bigwig.

"Yes, I know three used to be the usual number, but there was some special reason why I went alone that day. Oh, yes, I remember-I wanted to see if there were any early carrots. I thought they might just be ready, and I reckoned that if I was going hunting about in a strange part of the garden I'd be better off by myself. I was out most of the morning and it can't have been long before ni-Frith when I came back through the wood. I was coming down Silent Bank-I know most rabbits preferred the Green Loose, but I nearly always went by Silent Bank. I'd got into the open part of the wood, where it comes down, toward the old fence, when I noticed a hrududu in the lane at the top of the opposite slope. It was standing at the gate by the board and a lot of men were getting out. There was a boy with them and he had a gun. They took down some big, long things-I don't know how to describe them to you-they were made of the same sort of stuff as a hrududu and they must have been heavy, because it took two men to carry one of them. The men carried these things into the field and the few rabbits who were above ground went down. I didn't. I'd seen the gun and I thought they were probably going to use ferrets and perhaps nets. So I stayed where I was and watched. I thought, 'As soon as I'm sure what they're up to, I'll go and warn the Threarah.

"There was more talking and more white sticks. Men never hurry, do they? Then one of them got a spade and began filling in the mouths of all the holes he could find. Every hole he came to, he cut out the turf above and pushed it into the hole. That puzzled me, because with ferrets they want to drive the rabbits out. But I was expecting that they'd leave a few holes open and net them: although that would have been a foolish way to ferret, because a rabbit that went up a blocked run would be killed underground and then the man wouldn't get his ferret back very easily, you know."

"Don't make it too grim, Holly," said Hazel, for Pipkin was shuddering at the thought of the blocked run and the pursuing ferret.

"Too grim?" replied Holly bitterly. "I've hardly started yet. Would anyone like to go away?" No one moved and after a few moments he continued.

"Then another of the men fetched some long, thin, bending things. I haven't got words for all these men things, but they were something like lengths of very thick bramble. Each of the men took one and put it on one of the heavy things. There was a kind of hissing noise and-and-well, I know you must find this difficult to understand, but the air began to turn bad. For some reason I got a strong scent of this stuff that came out of the bramble things, even though I was some way off: and I couldn't see or think. I seemed to be falling. I tried to jump up and run, but I didn't know where I was and I found I'd run down to the edge of the wood, toward the men. I stopped just in time. I was bewildered and I'd lost all idea of warning the Threarah. After that I just sat where I was.

"The men put a bramble into each hole they'd left open and after that nothing happened for a little while. And then I saw Scabious-you remember Scabious? He came out of a hole along the hedge-one they hadn't noticed. I could see at once that he'd smelled this stuff. He didn't know what he was doing. The men didn't see him for a few moments and then one of them stuck out his arm to show where he was and the boy shot him. He didn't kill him-Scabious began to scream-and one of the men went over and picked him up and hit him. I really believe he may not have suffered very much, because the bad air had turned him silly: but I wish I hadn't seen it. After that, the man stopped up the hole that Scabious had come out of.

"By this time the poisoned air must have been spreading through the runs and burrows underground. I can imagine what it must have been like-"

"You can't," said Bluebell. Holly stopped and after a pause Bluebell went on.

"I heard the commotion beginning before I smelled the stuff myself. The does seemed to get it first and some of them began trying to get out. But the ones who had litters wouldn't leave the kittens and they were attacking any rabbit who came near them. They wanted to fight-to protect the kittens, you know. Very soon the runs were crammed with rabbits clawing and clambering over each other. They went up the runs they were accustomed to use and found them blocked. Some managed to turn round, but they couldn't get back because of the rabbits coming up. And then the runs began to be blocked lower down with dead rabbits and the live rabbits tore them to pieces.

"I shall never know how I got away with what I did. It was a chance in a thousand. I was in a burrow near one of the holes that the men were using. They made a lot of noise putting the bramble thing in and I've got an idea it wasn't working properly. As soon as I picked up the smell of the stuff I jumped out of the burrow, but I was still fairly clear-headed. I came up the run just as the men were taking the bramble out again. They were all looking at it and talking and they didn't see me. I turned round, actually in the mouth of the hole, and went down again.

"Do you remember the Slack Run? I suppose hardly a rabbit went down there in our lifetime-it was so very deep and it didn't lead anywhere in particular. No one knows even who made it. Frith must have guided me, for I went straight down into the Slack Run and began creeping along it. I was actually digging at times. It was all loose earth and fallen stones. There were all sorts of forgotten shafts and drops that led in from above, and down those were coming the most terrible sounds-cries for help, kittens squealing for their mothers, Owsla trying to give orders, rabbits cursing and fighting each other. Once a rabbit came tumbling down one of the shafts and his claws just scratched me, like a horse-chestnut bur falling in autumn. It was Celandine and he was dead. I had to tear at him before I could get over him-the place was so low and narrow-and then I went on. I could smell the bad air, but I was so deep down that I must have been beyond the worst of it.

"Suddenly I found there was another rabbit with me. He was the only one I met in the whole length of the Slack Run. It was Pimpernel and I could tell at once that he was in a bad way. He was spluttering and gasping, but he was able to keep going. He asked if I was all right, but all I said was, 'Where do we get out? 'I can show you that, he said, 'if you can help me along. So I followed him and every time he stopped-he kept forgetting where we were-I shoved him hard. I even bit him once. I was terrified that he was going to die and block the run. At last we began to come up and I could smell fresh air. We found we'd got into one of those runs that led out into the wood."

"The men had done their work badly," resumed Holly. "Either they didn't know about the wood holes or they couldn't be bothered to come and block them. Almost every rabbit that came up in the field was shot, but I saw two get away. One was Nose-in-the-Air, but I don't remember who the other was. The noise was very frightening and I would have run myself, but I kept waiting to see whether the Threarah would come. After a while I began to realize that there were a few other rabbits in the wood. Pine Needles was there, I remember, and Butterbur and Ash. I got hold of all I could and told them to sit tight under cover.

"After a long time the men finished. They took the bramble things out of the holes and the boy put the bodies on a stick-"

Holly stopped and pressed his nose under Bigwig's flank.

"Well, never mind about that bit," said Hazel in a steady voice. "Tell us how you came away."

"Before that happened," said Holly, "a great hrududu came into the field from the lane. It wasn't the one the men came in. It was very noisy and it was yellow-as yellow as charlock: and in front there was a great silver, shining thing that it held in its huge front paws. I don't know how to describe it to you. It looked like Inlé, but it was broad and not so bright. And this thing-how can I tell you-it tore the field to bits. It destroyed the field."

He stopped again.

"Captain," said Silver, "we all know you've seen things bad beyond telling. But surely that's not quite what you mean?"

"Upon my life," said Holly, trembling, "it buried itself in the ground and pushed great masses of earth in front of it until the field was destroyed. The whole place became like a cattle wade in winter and you could no longer tell where any part of the field had been, between the wood and the brook. Earth and roots and grass and bushes it pushed before it and-and other things as well, from underground.

"After a long time I went back through the wood. I'd forgotten any idea of collecting other rabbits, but there were three who joined me all the same-Bluebell here and Pimpernel and young Toadflax. Toadflax was the only member of the Owsla I'd seen and I asked him about the Threarah, but he couldn't talk any kind of sense. I never found out what happened to the Threarah. I hope he died quickly.

"Pimpernel was light-headed-chattering nonsense-and Bluebell and I weren't much better. For some reason all I could think of was Bigwig. I remembed how I'd gone to arrest him-to kill him, really-and I felt I had to find him and tell him I'd been wrong: and this idea was all the sense I had left. The four of us went wandering away and we must have gone almost in a half-circle, because after a long time we came to the brook, below what had been our field. We followed it down into a big wood; and that night, while we were still in the wood, Toadflax died. He was clear-headed for a short time before and I remember something he said. Bluebell had been saying that he knew the men hated us for raiding their crops and gardens, and Toadflax answered, 'That wasn't why they destroyed the warren. It was just because we were in their way. They killed us to suit themselves. Soon after that he went to sleep, and a little later, when we were alarmed by some noise or other, we tried to wake him and realized he was dead.

"We left him lying where he was and went on until we reached the river. I needn't describe it because I know you were all there. It was morning by this time. We thought you might be somewhere near and we began to go along the bank, upstream, looking for you. It wasn't long before we found the place where you must have crossed. There were tracks-a great many-in the sand under a steep bank, and hraka about three days old. The tracks didn't go upstream or downstream, so I knew you must have gone over. I swam across and found more tracks on the other side: so then the others came over, too. The river was high. I suppose you must have had it easier, before all the rain.

"I didn't like the fields on the other side of the river. There was a man with a gun who kept walking everywhere. I took the other two on, across a road, and soon we came to a bad place-all heather and soft black earth. We had a hard time there, but again I came upon hraka about three days old and no sign of holes or rabbits, so I thought there was a chance that they were yours. Bluebell was all right, but Pimpernel was feverish and I was afraid he was going to die, too.

"Then we had a bit of luck-or so we thought at the time. That night we fell in with a hlessi on the edge of the heather-an old, tough rabbit with his nose all scratched and scarred-and he told us that there was a warren not far off and showed us which way to go. We came to woods and fields again, but we were so much exhausted that we couldn't start looking for the warren. We crept into a ditch and I hadn't the heart to tell one of the others to keep awake. I tried to keep awake myself, but I couldn't."

"When was this?" asked Hazel.

"The day before yesterday," said Holly, "early in the morning. When I woke it was still some time before ni-Frith. Everything was quiet and all I could smell was rabbit, but I felt at once that something was wrong. I woke Bluebell and I was just going to wake Pimpernel when I realized that there was a whole bunch of rabbits all round us. They were great, big fellows and they had a very odd smell. It was like-well, like-"

"We know what it was like," said Fiver.

"I thought you probably did. Then one of them said, 'My name's Cowslip. Who are you and what are you doing here? I didn't like the way he spoke, but I couldn't see that they had any reason to wish us harm, so I told him that we'd had a bad time and come a long way and that we were looking for some rabbits from our warren-Hazel, Fiver and Bigwig. As soon as I said those names this rabbit turned to the others and cried, 'I knew it! Tear them to pieces! And they all set on us. One of them got me by the ear and ripped it up before Bluebell could pull him off. We were fighting the lot of them. I was so much taken by surprise that I couldn't do a great deal at first. But the funny thing was that although they were so big and yelling for our blood, they couldn't fight at all: they obviously didn't know the first thing about fighting. Bluebell knocked down a couple twice his size, and although my ear was pouring with blood I was never really in danger. All the same, they were too many for us, and we had to run. Bluebell and I had just got clear of the ditch when we realized that Pimpernel was still there. He was ill, as I told you, and he didn't wake in time. So after all he'd been through, poor Pimpernel was killed by rabbits. What do you think of that?"

"I think it was a damned shame," said Strawberry, before anyone else could speak.

"We were running down the fields, beside a little stream," Holly went on. "Some of these rabbits were still chasing us and suddenly I thought, 'Well, I'll have one of them anyway. I didn't care for the idea of doing nothing more than just run away to save our skins-not after Pimpernel. I saw that this Cowslip was ahead of the others and out on his own, so I let him catch me up and then I suddenly turned and went for him. I had him down and I was just going to rip him up when he squealed out, 'I can tell you where your friends have gone. 'Hurry up, then, I said, with my back legs braced in his stomach. 'They've gone to the hills, he panted. 'The high hills you can see away over there. They went yesterday morning. I pretended not to believe him and acted as though I was going to kill him. But he didn't alter his story, so I scratched him and let him go and away we came. It was clear weather and we could see the hills plainly enough.

"After that we had the worst time of all. If it hadn't been for Bluebell's jokes and chatter we'd have stopped running for certain."

"Hraka one end, jokes the other," said Bluebell. "I used to roll a joke along the ground and we both followed it. That was how we kept going."

"I can't really tell you much about the rest of it," said Holly. "My ear was terribly painful and all the time I kept thinking that Pimpernel's death was my fault. If I hadn't gone to sleep he wouldn't have died. Once we tried to sleep again, but my dreams were more than I could bear. I was out of my mind, really. I had only this one idea-to find Bigwig and tell him that he'd been right to leave the warren.

"At last we reached the hills, just at nightfall of the next day. We were past caring-we came over the flat, open land at owl time. I don't know what I'd been expecting. You know how you let yourself think that everything will be all right if you can only get to a certain place or do a certain thing. But when you get there you find it's not that simple. I suppose I'd had some sort of foolish notion that Bigwig would be waiting to meet us. We found the hills were enormous-bigger than anything we'd ever seen. No woods, no cover, no rabbits: and night setting in. And then everything seemed to go to pieces. I saw Scabious, as plain as grass-and heard him crying, too: and I saw the Threarah and Toadflax and Pimpernel. I tried to talk to them. I was calling Bigwig, but I didn't really expect him to hear because I was sure he wasn't there. I can remember coming out from a hedge into the open and I know I was really hoping that the elil would come and make an end of me. But when I came to my senses, there was Bigwig. My first thought was that I must be dead, but then I began to wonder whether he was real or not. Well, you know the rest. It's a pity I frightened you so much. But if I wasn't the-the Black Rabbit, there's hardly a living creature that can ever have been closer to him than we have."

After a silence, he added, "You can imagine what it means to Bluebell and me to find ourselves underground, among friends. It wasn't I who tried to arrest you, Bigwig-that was another rabbit, long, long ago."

22. The Story of the Trial of El-ahrairah

Rabbits (says Mr. Lockley) are like human beings in many ways. One of these is certainly their staunch ability to withstand disaster and to let the stream of their life carry them along, past reaches of terror and loss. They have a certain quality which it would not be accurate to describe as callousness or indifference. It is, rather, a blessedly circumscribed imagination and an intuitive feeling that Life is Now. A foraging wild creature, intent above all upon survival, is as strong as the grass. Collectively, rabbits rest secure upon Frith's promise to El-ahrairah. Hardly a full day had elapsed since Holly had come crawling in delirium to the foot of Watership Down. Yet already he was near recovery, while the more light-hearted Bluebell seemed even less the worse for the dreadful catastrophe that he had survived. Hazel and his companions had suffered extremes of grief and horror during the telling of Holly's tale. Pipkin had cried and trembled piteously at the death of Scabious, and Acorn and Speedwell had been seized with convulsive choking as Bluebell told of the poisonous gas that murdered underground. Yet, as with primitive humans, the very strength and vividness of their sympathy brought with it a true release. Their feelings were not false or assumed. While the story was being told, they heard it without any of the reserve or detachment that the kindest of civilized humans retains as he reads his newspaper. To themselves, they seemed to struggle in the poisoned runs and to blaze with rage for poor Pimpernel in the ditch. This was their way of honoring the dead. The story over, the demands of their own hard, rough lives began to re-assert themselves in their hearts, in their nerves, their blood and appetites. Would that the dead were not dead! But there is grass that must be eaten, pellets that must be chewed, hraka that must be passed, holes that must be dug, sleep that must be slept. Odysseus brings not one man to shore with him. Yet he sleeps sound beside Calypso and when he wakes thinks only of Penelope.

Even before Holly had finished his story, Hazel had fallen to sniffing at his wounded ear. He had not previously been able to get a good look at it, but now that he did, he realized that terror and fatigue had probably not been the principal causes of Holly's collapse. He was badly wounded-worse than Buckthorn. He must have lost a lot of blood. His ear was in ribbons and there was any amount of dirt in it. Hazel felt annoyed with Dandelion. As several of the rabbits began to silflay, attracted by the mild June night and the full moon, he asked Blackberry to wait. Silver, who had been about to leave by the other run, returned and joined them.

"Dandelion and the other two seem to have cheered you up, all right," said Hazel to Holly. "It's a pity they didn't clean you up as well. That dirt's dangerous."

"Well, you see-" began Bluebell, who had remained beside Holly.

"Don't make a joke," said Hazel. "You seem to think-"

"I wasn't going to," said Bluebell. "I was only going to say that I wanted to clean the captain's ear, but it's too tender to be touched."

"He's quite right," said Holly. "I'm afraid I made them neglect it, but do as you think best, Hazel, I'm feeling much better now."

Hazel began on the ear himself. The blood had caked black and the task needed patience. After a while the long, jagged wounds bled again as they slowly became clean. Silver took over. Holly, bearing it as well as he could, growled and scuffled, and Silver cast about for something to occupy his attention.

"Hazel," he asked, "what was this idea you had-about the mouse? You said you'd explain it later. How about trying it out on us now?"

"Well," said Hazel, "the idea is simply that in our situation we can't afford to waste anything that might do us good. We're in a strange place we don't know much about and we need friends. Now, elil can't do us good, obviously, but there are many creatures that aren't elil-birds, mice, yonil and so on. Rabbits don't usually have much to do with them, but their enemies are our enemies, for the most part. I think we ought to do all we can to make these creatures friendly. It might turn out to be well worth the trouble."

"I can't say I fancy the idea myself," said Silver, wiping Holly's blood out of his nose. "These small animals are more to be despised than relied upon, I reckon. What good can they do us? They can't dig for us, they can't get food for us, they can't fight for us. They'd say they were friendly, no doubt, as long as we were helping them; but that's where it would stop. I heard that mouse tonight-'You want 'im, 'e come. You bet he will, as long as there's any grub or warmth going, but surely we're not going to have the warren overrun with mice and-and stag beetles, are we?"

"No, I didn't mean quite that," said Hazel. "I'm not suggesting we should go about looking for field mice and inviting them to join us. They wouldn't thank us for that, anyway. But that mouse tonight-we saved his life-"

"You saved his life," said Blackberry.

"Well, his life was saved. He'll remember that."

"But how's it going to help us?" asked Bluebell.

"To start with, he can tell us what he knows about the place-"

"What mice know. Not what rabbits need to know."

"Well, I admit a mouse might or might not come in handy," said Hazel. "But I'm sure a bird would, if we could only do enough for it. We can't fly, but some of them know the country for a long way round. They know a lot about the weather, too. All I'm saying is this. If anyone finds an animal or bird, that isn't an enemy, in need of help, for goodness' sake don't miss the opportunity. That would be like leaving carrots to rot in the ground."

"What do you think?" said Silver to Blackberry.

"I think it's a good idea, but real opportunities of the kind Hazel has in mind aren't likely to come very often."

"I think that's about right," said Holly, wincing as Silver resumed licking. "The idea's all right as far as it goes, but it won't come to a great deal in practice."

"I'm ready to give it a try," said Silver. "I reckon it'll be worth it, just to see Bigwig telling bedtime stories to a mole."

"El-ahrairah did it once," said Bluebell, "and it worked. Do you remember?"

"No," said Hazel, "I don't know that story. Let's have it."

"Let's silflay first," said Holly. "This ear's had all I can stand for the time being."

"Well, at least it's clean now," said Hazel. "But I'm afraid it'll never be as good as the other, you know. You'll have a ragged ear."

"Never mind," said Holly. "I'm still one of the lucky ones."

The full moon, well risen in a cloudless eastern sky, covered the high solitude with its light. We are not conscious of daylight as that which displaces darkness. Daylight, even when the sun is clear of clouds, seems to us simply the natural condition of the earth and air. When we think of the downs, we think of the downs in daylight, as we think of a rabbit with its fur on. Stubbs may have envisaged the skeleton inside the horse, but most of us do not: and we do not usually envisage the downs without daylight, even though the light is not a part of the down itself as the hide is part of the horse itself. We take daylight for granted. But moonlight is another matter. It is inconstant. The full moon wanes and returns again. Clouds may obscure it to an extent to which they cannot obscure daylight. Water is necessary to us, but a waterfall is not. Where it is to be found it is something extra, a beautiful ornament. We need daylight and to that extent it is utilitarian, but moonlight we do not need. When it comes, it serves no necessity. It transforms. It falls upon the banks and the grass, separating one long blade from another; turning a drift of brown, frosted leaves from a single heap to innumerable flashing fragments; or glimmering lengthways along wet twigs as though light itself were ductile. Its long beams pour, white and sharp, between the trunks of trees, their clarity fading as they recede into the powdery, misty distance of beech woods at night. In moonlight, two acres of coarse bent grass, undulant and ankle deep, tumbled and rough as a horse's mane, appear like a bay of waves, all shadowy troughs and hollows. The growth is so thick and matted that even the wind does not move it, but it is the moonlight that seems to confer stillness upon it. We do not take moonlight for granted. It is like snow, or like the dew on a July morning. It does not reveal but changes what it covers. And its low intensity-so much lower than that of daylight-makes us conscious that it is something added to the down, to give it, for only a little time, a singular and marvelous quality that we should admire while we can, for soon it will be gone again.

As the rabbits came up by the hole inside the beech wood, a swift gust of wind passed through the leaves, checkering and dappling the ground beneath, stealing and giving light under the branches. They listened, but beyond the rustle of the leaves there came from the open down outside no sound except the monotonous tremolo of a grasshopper warbler, far off in the grass.

"What a moon!" said Silver. "Let's enjoy it while it's here."

As they went over the bank they met Speedwell and Hawkbit returning.

"Oh, Hazel," said Hawkbit, "we've been talking to another mouse. He'd heard about the kestrel this evening and was very friendly. He told us about a place just the other side of the wood where the grass has been cut short-something to do with horses, he said. 'You like a nice a grass? 'E very fine grass. So we went there. It's first-rate."

The gallop turned out to be a good forty yards wide, mown to less than six inches. Hazel, with a delightful sense of having been proved right by events, set to work on a patch of clover. They all munched for some time in silence.

"You're a clever chap, Hazel," said Holly at last "You and your mouse. Mind you, we'd have found the place ourselves sooner or later, but not as soon as this."

Hazel could have pressed his chin glands for satisfaction, but he replied merely, "We shan't need to go down the hill so much, after all." Then he added, "But, Holly, you smell of blood, you know. It may be dangerous, even here. Let's go back to the wood. It's such a beautiful night that we can sit near the holes to chew pellets and Bluebell can tell us his story."

They found Strawberry and Buckthorn on the bank; and when everyone was comfortably chewing, with ears laid fiat, Bluebell began.

"Dandelion was telling me last night about Cowslip's warren and how he told the story of the King's Lettuce. That's what put me in mind of this tale, even before Hazel explained his idea. I used to hear it from my grandfather and he always said that it happened after El-ahrairah had got his people out of the marshes of Kelfazin. They went to the meadows of Fenlo and there they dug their holes. But Prince Rainbow had his eye on El-ahrairah; and he was determined to see that he didn't get up to any more of his tricks.

"Now one evening, when El-ahrairah and Rabscuttle were sitting on a sunny bank, Prince Rainbow came through the meadows and with him was a rabbit that El-ahrairah had never seen before.

" 'Good evening, El-ahrairah, said Prince Rainbow. 'This is a great improvement on the marshes of Kelfazin. I see all your does are busy digging holes along the bank. Have they dug a hole for you?

" 'Yes, said El-ahrairah. 'This hole here belongs to Rabscuttle and myself. We liked the look of this bank as soon as we saw it.

" 'A very nice bank, said Prince Rainbow. 'But I am afraid I have to tell you, El-ahrairah, that I have strict orders from Lord Frith himself not to allow you to share a hole with Rabscuttle.

" 'Not share a hole with Rabscuttle? said El-ahrairah. 'Why ever not?

" 'El-ahrairah, said Prince Rainbow, 'we know you and your tricks: and Rabscuttle is nearly as slippery as you are. Both of you in one hole would be altogether too much of a good thing. You would be stealing the clouds out of the sky before the moon had changed twice. No-Rabscuttle must go and look after the holes at the other end of the warren. Let me introduce you. This is Hufsa. I want you to be his friend and look after him.

" 'Where does he come from? asked El-ahrairah. 'I certainly haven't seen him before.

" 'He comes from another country, said Prince Rainbow, 'but he is no different from any other rabbit. I hope you will help him to settle down here. And while he is getting to know the place, I'm sure you will be glad to let him share your hole.

"El-ahrairah and Rabscuttle felt desperately annoyed that they were not to be allowed to live together in their hole. But it was one of El-ahrairah's rules never to let anyone see when he was angry and, besides, he felt sorry for Hufsa because he supposed that he was feeling lonely and awkward, being far away from his own people. So he welcomed him and promised to help him settle down. Hufsa was perfectly friendly and seemed anxious to please everyone; and Rabscuttle moved down to the other end of the warren.

"After a time, however, El-ahrairah began to find that something was always going wrong with his plans. One night, in the spring, when he had taken some of his people to a cornfield to eat the green shoots, they found a man with a gun walking about in the moonlight and were lucky to get away without trouble. Another time, after El-ahrairah had reconnoitered the way to a cabbage garden and scratched a hole under the fence, he arrived the next morning to find it blocked with wire, and he began to suspect that his plans were leaking out to people who were not intended to learn them.

"One day he determined to set a trap for Hufsa, to find out whether it was he who was at the bottom of the trouble. He showed him a path across the fields and told him that it led to a lonely barn full of swedes and turnips: and he went on to say that he and Rabscuttle meant to go there the next morning. In fact El-ahrairah had no such plans and took care not to say anything about the path or the barn to anyone else. But next day, when he went cautiously along the path, he found a wire set in the grass.

"This made El-ahrairah really angry, for any of his people might have been snared and killed. Of course he did not suppose that Hufsa was setting wires himself, or even that he had known that a wire was going to be set. But evidently Hufsa was in touch with somebody who did not stick at setting a wire. In the end, El-ahrairah decided that probably Prince Rainbow was passing on Hufsa's information to a farmer or a gamekeeper and not bothering himself about what happpened as a result. His rabbits' lives were in danger because of Hufsa-to say nothing of all the lettuces and cabbages they were missing. After this, El-ahrairah tried not to tell Hufsa anything at all. But it was difficult to prevent him from hearing things because, as you all know, rabbits are very good at keeping secrets from other animals, but no good at keeping secrets from each other. Warren life doesn't make for secrecy. He considered killing Hufsa. But he knew that if he did, Prince Rainbow would come and they would end in more trouble. He felt decidedly uneasy even about keeping things from Hufsa, because he thought that if Hufsa realized that they knew he was a spy, he would tell Prince Rainbow and Prince Rainbow would probably take him away and think of something worse.

"El-ahrairah thought and thought. He was still thinking the next evening, when Prince Rainbow paid one of his visits to the warren.

" 'You are quite a reformed character these days, El-ahrairah, said Prince Rainbow. 'If you are not careful, people will begin to trust you. Since I was passing by, I thought I would just stop to thank you for your kindness in looking after Hufsa. He seems quite at home with you.

" 'Yes, he does, doesn't he? said El-ahrairah. 'We grow in beauty side by side; we fill one hole with glee. But I always say to my people, "Put not your trust in princes, nor in any-"

" 'Well, El-ahrairah, said Prince Rainbow, interrupting him, 'I am sure I can trust you. And to prove it, I have decided that I will grow a nice crop of carrots in the field behind the hill. It is an excellent bit of ground and I am sure they will do well. Especially as no one would dream of stealing them. In fact, you can come and watch me plant them, if you like.

" 'I will, said El-ahrairah. 'That will be delightful.

"El-ahrairah, Rabscuttle, Hufsa and several other rabbits accompanied Prince Rainbow to the field behind the hill; and they helped him to sow it with long rows of carrot seed. It was a light, dry sort of soil-just the thing for carrots-and the whole business infuriated El-ahrairah, because he was certain that Prince Rainbow was doing it to tease him and to show that he felt sure that he had clipped his claws at last.

" 'That will do splendidly, said Prince Rainbow when they had finished. 'Of course, I know that no one would dream of stealing my carrots. But if they did-if they did steal them, El-ahrairah-I should be very angry indeed. If King Darzin stole them, for instance, I feel sure that Lord Frith would take away his kingdom and give it to someone else.

"El-ahrairah knew that Prince Rainbow meant that if he caught him stealing the carrots he would either kill him or else banish him and put some other rabbit over his people: and the thought that the other rabbit would probably be Hufsa made him grind his teeth. But he said, 'Of course, of course. Very right and proper. And Prince Rainbow went away.

"One night, in the second moon after the planting, El-ahrairah and Rabscuttle went to look at the carrots. No one had thinned them out and the tops were thick and green. El-ahrairah judged that most of the roots would be a little thinner than a forepaw. And it was while he was looking at them in the moonlight that his plan came to him. He had become so cautious about Hufsa-and indeed no one ever knew where Hufsa would be next-that on the way back he and Rabscuttle made for a hole in a lonely bank and went down it to talk together. And there El-ahrairah promised Rabscuttle not only that he would steal Prince Rainbow's carrots, but also that between them they would see the back of Hufsa into the bargain. They came out of the hole and Rabscuttle went to the farm to steal some seed corn. El-ahrairah spent the rest of the night gathering slugs; and a nasty business it was.

"The next evening El-ahrairah went out early and after a little while found Yona the hedgehog pottering along the hedge.

" 'Yona, he said, "would you like a whole lot of nice, fat slugs?

" 'Yes, I would, El-ahrairah, said Yona, 'but they're not so easily found. You'd know that if you were a hedgehog.

" 'Well, here are some nice ones, said El-ahrairah, 'and you can have them all. But I can give you a great many more if you will do what I say and ask no questions. Can you sing?

" 'Sing, El-ahrairah? No hedgehog can sing.

" 'Good, said El-ahrairah. 'Excellent. But you will have to try if you want those slugs. Ah! There is an old, empty box, I see, that the farmer has left in the ditch. Better and better. Now you listen to me.

"Meanwhile, in the wood, Rabscuttle was talking to Hawock the pheasant.

" 'Hawock, he said, 'can you swim?

" 'I never go near water if I can avoid it, Rabscuttle, said Hawock. 'I dislike it very much. But I suppose if I had to, I could make shift to keep afloat for a little while.

" 'Splendid, said Rabscuttle. 'Now attend. I have a whole lot of corn-and you know how scarce it is at this time of year-and you can have it all, if only you will do a little swimming in the pond on the edge of the wood. Just let me explain as we go down there. And off they went through the wood.

"Fu Inlé, El-ahrairah strolled into his hole and found Hufsa chewing pellets. 'Ah, Hufsa, you're here, he said. 'That's fine. I can't trust anyone else, but you'll come with me, won't you? Just you and I-no one else must know.

" 'Why, what's to be done, El-ahrairah? asked Hufsa.

" 'I've been looking at those carrots of Prince Rainbow's, replied El-ahrairah. 'I can't stand it any longer. They're the best I've ever seen. I'm determined to steal them-or most of them, anyway. Of course, if I took a lot of rabbits on an expedition of this kind we'd soon be in trouble. Things would leak out and Prince Rainbow would be sure to get to hear. But if you and I go alone, no one will ever know who did it.

" 'I'll come, said Hufsa. 'Let's go tomorrow night. For he thought that that would give him time to tell Prince Rainbow.

" 'No, said El-ahrairah, 'I'm going now. At once.

"He wondered whether Hufsa would try to turn him against this idea, but when he looked at him he could see that Hufsa was thinking that this would be the end of El-ahrairah and that he himself would be made king of the rabbits.

"They set out together in the moonlight.

"They had gone a good way along the hedge when they came upon an old box lying in the ditch. Sitting on top of the box was Yona the hedgehog. His prickles were stuck all over with dog-rose petals and he was making an extraordinary squeaking, grunting noise and waving his black paws. They stopped and looked at him.

" 'Whatever are you doing, Yona? asked Hufsa in astonishment.

" 'Singing to the moon, answered Yona. 'All hedgehogs have to sing to the moon to make the slugs come. Surely you know that?

" 'What a frightful noise! said El-ahrairah and indeed it was. 'Let's get on quickly before he brings all the elil round us. And on they went.

"After a time they drew near the pond on the edge of the wood. As they approached it they heard a squawking and splashing and then they saw Hawock the pheasant scuttering about in the water, with his long tail feathers floating out behind him.

" 'Whatever has happened? said Hufsa. 'Hawock, have you been shot?

" 'No, no, replied Hawock. 'I always go swimming in the full moon. It makes my tail grow longer and, besides, my head wouldn't stay red, white and green without swimming. But you must know that, Hufsa, surely? Everyone knows that.

" 'The truth is, he doesn't like other animals to catch him at it, whispered El-ahrairah. 'Let's go on.

"A little further on they came to an old well by a big oak tree. The farmer had filled it up long ago, but the mouth looked very deep and black in the moonlight.

" 'Let's have a rest, said El-ahrairah, 'just for a short time.

"As he spoke, a most curious-looking creature came out of the grass. It looked something like a rabbit, but even in the moonlight they could see that it had a red tail and long green ears. In its mouth it was carrying the end of one of the white sticks that men burn. It was Rabscuttle, but not even Hufsa could recognize him. He had found some sheep-dip powder at the farm and sat in it to make his tail red. His ears were festooned with trails of bryony and the white stick was making him feel ill.

" 'Frith preserve us! said El-ahrairah. 'What can it be? Let's only hope it isn't one of the Thousand! He leaped up, ready to run. 'Who are you? he asked, trembling.

"Rabscuttle spat out the white stick.

" 'So! he said commandingly. 'So you have seen me, El-ahrairah! Many rabbits live out their lives and die, but few see me. Few or none! I am one of the rabbit messengers of Lord Frith, who go about the earth secretly by day and return nightly to his golden palace! He is even now awaiting me on the other side of the world and I must go to him swiftly, through the heart of the earth! Farewell, El-ahrairah!

"The strange rabbit leaped over the edge of the well and disappeared into the darkness below.

" 'We have seen what we should not! said El-ahrairah in an awe-stricken voice. 'How dreadful is this place! Let us go quickly!

"They hurried on and presently they came to Prince Rainbow's field of carrots. How many they stole I cannot say; but of course, as you know, El-ahrairah is a great prince and no doubt he used powers unknown to you and me. But my grandfather always said that before morning the field was stripped bare. The carrots were hidden down a deep hole in the bank beside the wood and El-ahrairah and Hufsa made their way home. El-ahrairah collected two or three followers and stayed underground with them all day, but Hufsa went out in the afternoon without saying where he was going.

"That evening, as El-ahrairah and his people began to silflay under a fine red sky, Prince Rainbow came over the fields. Behind him were two great black dogs.

" 'El-ahrairah, he said, 'you are under arrest.

" 'What for? asked El-ahrairah.

" 'You know very well what for, said Prince Rainbow. 'Let me have no more of your tricks and insolence, El-ahrairah. Where are the carrots?

" 'If I am under arrest, said El-ahrairah, 'may I be told what for? It is not fair to tell me I am under arrest and then to ask me questions.

" 'Come, come, El-ahrairah, said Prince Rainbow, 'you are merely wasting time. Tell me where the carrots are and I will only send you to the great North and not kill you.

" 'Prince Rainbow, said El-ahrairah, 'for the third time, may I know for what I am under arrest?

" 'Very well, said Prince Rainbow, 'if this is the way you want to die, El-ahrairah, you shall have the full process of law. You are under arrest for stealing my carrots. Are you seriously asking for a trial? I warn you that I have direct evidence and it will go ill with you.

"By this time all El-ahrairah's people were crowding round, as near as they dared for the dogs. Only Rabscuttle was nowhere to be seen. He had spent the whole day moving the carrots to another secret hole and he was now hiding because he could not get his tail white again.

" 'Yes, I would like a trial, said El-ahrairah, 'and I would like to be judged by a jury of animals. For it is not right, Prince Rainbow, that you should both accuse me and be the judge as well.

" 'A jury of animals you shall have, said Prince Rainbow. 'A jury of elil, El-ahrairah. For a jury of rabbits would refuse to convict you, in spite of the evidence.

"To everyone's surprise, El-ahrairah immediately replied that he would be content with a jury of elil: and Prince Rainbow said that he would bring them that night. El-ahrairah was sent down his hole and the dogs were put on guard outside. None of his people was allowed to see him, although many tried.

"Up and down the hedges and copses the news spread that El-ahrairah was on trial for his life and that Prince Rainbow was going to bring him before a jury of elil. Animals came crowding in. Fu Inlé, Prince Rainbow returned with the elil-two badgers, two foxes, two stoats, an owl and a cat. El-ahrairah was brought up and placed between the dogs. The elil sat staring at him and their eyes glittered in the moon. They licked their lips: and the dogs muttered that they had been promised the task of carrying out the sentence. There were a great many animals-rabbits and others-and every one of them felt sure that this time it was all up with El-ahrairah.

" 'Now, said Prince Rainbow, 'let us begin. It will not take long. Where is Hufsa?

"Then Hufsa came out, bowing and bobbing his head, and he told the elil that El-ahrairah had come the night before, when he was quietly chewing pellets, and terrified him into going with him to steal Prince Rainbow's carrots. He had wanted to refuse, but he had been too much frightened. The carrots were hidden in a hole that he could show them. He had been forced to do what he did, but the next day he had gone as quickly as possible to tell Prince Rainbow, whose loyal servant he was.

" 'We will recover the carrots later, said Prince Rainbow. 'Now, El-ahrairah, have you any evidence to call or anything to say? Make haste.

" 'I would like to ask the witness some questions, said El-ahrairah; and the elil agreed that this was only fair.

" 'Now, Hufsa, said El-ahrairah, 'can we hear a little more about this journey that you and I are supposed to have made? For really I can remember nothing about it at all. You say we went out of the hole and set off in the night. What happened then?

" 'Why, El-ahrairah, said Hufsa, 'you can't possibly have forgotten. We came along by the ditch, and don't you remember that we saw a hedgehog sitting on a box singing a song to the moon?

" 'A hedgehog doing what? said one of the badgers.

" 'Singing a song to the moon, said Hufsa eagerly. They do that, you know, to make the slugs come. He had rose petals stuck all over him and he was waving his paws and-

" 'Now, steady, steady, said El-ahrairah kindly, 'I wouldn't like you to say anything you don't mean. Poor fellow, he added to the jury, 'he really believes these things he says, you know. He doesn't mean any harm, but-

" 'But he was, shouted Hufsa. 'He was singing, "O Slug-a-Moon! O Slug-a-Moon! O grant-"

" 'What the hedgehog sang is not evidence, said El-ahrairah. 'Really, one is inclined to wonder what is. Well, all right. We saw a hedgehog covered with roses, singing a song on a box. What happened then?

" 'Well, said Hufsa, 'then we went on and came to the pond, where we saw a pheasant.

" 'Pheasant, eh? said one of the foxes. 'I wish I'd seen it. What was it doing?

" 'It was swimming round and round in the water, said Hufsa.

" 'Wounded, eh? said the fox.

" 'No, no, said Hufsa. 'They all do that, to make their tails grow longer. I'm surprised you don't know.

" 'To make what? said the fox.

" 'To make their tails grow longer, said Hufsa sulkily. 'He said so himself.

" 'You've only had this stuff for a very short time, said El-ahrairah to the elil. 'It takes a bit of getting used to. Look at me. I've been forced to live with it for the last two months, day in and day out. I've been as kind and understanding as I can, but apparently just to my own harm.

"A silence fell. El-ahrairah, with an air of fatherly patience, turned back to the witness.

" 'My memory is so bad, he said. 'Do go on.

" 'Well, El-ahrairah, said Hufsa, 'you're pretending very cleverly, but even you won't be able to say you've forgotten what happened next. A huge, terrifying rabbit, with a red tail and green ears, came out of the grass. He had a white stick in his mouth and he plunged into the ground down a great hole. He told us he was going through the middle of the earth to see Lord Frith on the other side.

"This time not one of the elil said a word. They were staring at Hufsa and shaking their heads.

" 'They're all mad, you know, whispered one of the stoats, 'nasty little beasts. They'll say anything when they're cornered. But this one is the worst I've ever heard. How much longer have we got to stay here? I'm hungry.

"Now El-ahrairah had known beforehand that while elil detest all rabbits, they would dislike most the one who looked the biggest fool. That was why he had agreed to a jury of elil. A jury of rabbits might have tried, to get to the bottom of Hufsa's story; but not the elil, for they hated and despised the witness and wanted to be off hunting as soon as they could.

" 'So it comes to this, said El-ahrairah. 'We saw a hedgehog covered with roses, singing a song: and then we saw a perfectly healthy pheasant swimming round and round the pond: and then we saw a rabbit with a red tail, green ears and a white stick, and he jumped straight down a deep well. Is that right?

" 'Yes, said Hufsa.

" 'And then we stole the carrots?

" 'Yes.

" 'Were they purple with green spots?

" 'Were what purple with green spots?

" 'The carrots.

" 'Well, you know they weren't, El-ahrairah. They were the ordinary color. They're down the hole! shouted Hufsa desperately. 'Down the hole! Go and look!

"The court adjourned while Hufsa led Prince Rainbow to the hole. They found no carrots and returned.

" 'I've been underground all day, said El-ahrairah, 'and I can prove it. I ought to have been asleep, but it's very difficult when m'learned friend-well, never mind. I simply mean that obviously I couldn't have been out moving carrots or anything else. If there ever were any carrots, he added. 'But I've nothing more to say.

" 'Prince Rainbow, said the cat, 'I hate all rabbits. But I don't see how we can possibly say that it's been proved that that rabbit took your carrots. The witness is obviously out of his mind-mad as the mist and snow-and the prisoner will have to be released. They all agreed.

" 'You had better go quickly, said Prince Rainbow to El-ahrairah. 'Go down your hole, El-ahrairah, before I hurt you myself.

" 'I will, my lord, said El-ahrairah. 'But may I beg you to remove that rabbit you sent among us, for he troubles us with his foolishness?

"So Hufsa went away with Prince Rainbow and El-ahrairah's people were left in peace, apart from indigestion brought on by eating too many carrots. But it was a long time before Rabscuttle could get his tail white again, so my grandfather always said."

23. Kehaar

Human beings say, "It never rains but it pours." This is not very apt, for it frequently does rain without pouring. The rabbits' proverb is better expressed. They say, "One cloud feels lonely": and indeed it is true that the appearance of a single cloud often means that the sky will soon be overcast. However that may be, the very next day provided a dramatic second opportunity to put Hazel's idea into practice.

It was early morning and the rabbits were beginning to silflay, coming up into clear gray silence. The air was still chilly. There was a good deal of dew and no wind. Five or six wild duck flew overhead in a swiftly moving V, intent on some far-off destination. The sound made by their wings came down distinctly, diminishing as they went away southward. The silence returned. With the melting of the last of the twilight there grew a kind of expectancy and tension, as though it were thawing snow about to slide from a sloping roof. Then the whole down and all below it, earth and air, gave way to the sunrise. As a bull, with a slight but irresistible movement, tosses its head from the grasp of a man who is leaning over the stall and idly holding its horn, so the sun entered the world in smooth, gigantic power. Nothing interrupted or obscured its coming. Without a sound, the leaves shone and the grass coruscated along the miles of the escarpment.

Outside the wood, Bigwig and Silver combed their ears, sniffed the air and hopped away, following their own long shadows to the grass of the gallop. As they moved over the short turf-nibbling, sitting up and looking round them-they approached a little hollow, no more than three feet across. Before they reached the edge Bigwig, who was ahead of Silver, checked and crouched, staring. Although he could not see into the hollow, he knew that there was some creature in it-something fairly big. Peering through the blades of grass round his head, he could see the curve of a white back. Whatever the creature was, it was nearly as big as himself. He waited, stock still, for some little time, but it did not move.

"What has a white back, Silver?" whispered Bigwig.

Silver considered. "A cat?"

"No cats here."

"How do you know?"

At that moment they both heard a low, breathy hissing from the hollow. It lasted for a few moments. Then there was silence once more.

Bigwig and Silver had a good opinion of themselves. Apart from Holly, they were the only survivors of the Sandleford Owsla and they knew that their comrades looked up to them. The encounter with the rats in the barn had been no joke and had proved their worth. Bigwig, who was generous and honest, had never for a moment resented Hazel's courage on the night when his own superstitious fear had got the better of him. But the idea of going back to the Honeycomb and reporting that he had glimpsed an unknown creature in the grass and left it alone was more than he could swallow. He turned his head and looked at Silver. Seeing that he was game, he took a final look at the strange white back and then went straight up to the edge of the hollow. Silver followed.

It was no cat. The creature in the hollow was a bird-a big bird, nearly a foot long. Neither of them had ever seen a bird like it before. The white part of its back, which they had glimpsed through the grass, was in fact only the shoulders and neck. The lower back was light gray and so were the wings, which tapered to long, black-tipped primaries folded together over the tail. The head was very dark brown-almost black-in such sharp contrast to the white neck that the bird looked as though it were wearing a kind of hood. The one dark red leg that they could see ended in a webbed foot and three powerful, taloned toes. The beak, hooked slightly downward at the end, was strong and sharp. As they stared, it opened, disclosing a red mouth and throat. The bird hissed savagely and tried to strike, but still it did not move.

"It's hurt," said Bigwig.

"Yes, you can tell that," replied Silver. "But it's not wounded anywhere that I can see. I'll go round-"

"Look out!" said Bigwig. "He'll have you!"

Silver, as he started to move round the hollow, had come closer to the bird's head. He jumped back just in time to avoid a quick, darting blow of the beak.

"That would have broken your foot," said Bigwig.

As they squatted, looking at the bird-for they both sensed intuitively that it would not rise-it suddenly burst into loud, raucous cries-"Yark! Yark! Yark!" — a tremendous sound at close quarters-that split the morning and carried far across the down. Bigwig and Silver turned and ran.

They collected themselves sufficiently to pull up short of the wood and make a more dignified approach to the bank. Hazel came to meet them in the grass. There was no mistaking their wide eyes and dilated nostrils.

"Elil?" asked Hazel.

"Well, I'm blessed if I know, to tell you the truth," replied Bigwig. "There's a great bird out there, like nothing I've ever seen."

"How big? As big as a pheasant?"

"Not quite so big," admitted Bigwig, "but bigger than a wood pigeon: and a lot fiercer."

"Is that what cried?"

"Yes. It startled me, all right. We were actually beside it. But for some reason or other it can't move."

"Dying?"

"I don't think so."

"I'll go and have a look at it," said Hazel.

"It's savage. For goodness' sake be careful."

Bigwig and Silver returned with Hazel. The three of them squatted outside the bird's reach as it looked sharply and desperately from one to the other. Hazel spoke in the hedgerow patois.

"You hurt? You no fly?"

The answer was a harsh gabbling which they all felt immediately to be exotic. Wherever the bird came from, it was somewhere far away. The accent was strange and guttural, the speech distorted. They could catch only a word here and there.

"Come keel-kah! kah! — you come keel-yark! — t'ink me finish-me no finish-'urt you damn plenty-" The dark brown head flickered from side to side. Then, unexpectedly, the bird began to drive its beak into the ground. They noticed for the first time that the grass in front of it was torn and scored with lines. For some moments it stabbed here and there, then gave up, lifted its head and watched them again.

"I believe it's starving," said Hazel. "We'd better feed it. Bigwig, go and get some worms or something, there's a good fellow."

"Er-what did you say, Hazel?"

" Worms."

"Me dig for worms?"

"Didn't the Owsla teach-oh, all right, I'll do it," said Hazel. "You and Silver wait here."

After a few moments, however, Bigwig followed Hazel back to the ditch and began to join him in scratching at the dry ground. Worms are not plentiful on the downs and there had been no rain for days. After a time Bigwig looked up.

"What about beetles? Wood lice? Something like that?"

They found some rotten sticks and carried them back. Hazel pushed one forward cautiously.

"Insects."

The bird split the stick three ways in as many seconds and snapped up the few insects inside. Soon there was a small pile of debris in the hollow as the rabbits brought anything from which it could get food. Bigwig found some horse dung along the track, dug the worms out of it, overcame his disgust and carried them one by one. When Hazel praised him, he muttered something about "the first time any rabbit's done this and don't tell the blackbirds." At last, long after they had all grown weary, the bird stopped feeding and looked at Hazel.

"Finish eat." It paused. "Vat for you do?"

"You hurt?" said Hazel.

The bird looked crafty. "No hurt. Plenty fight. Stay small time, den go."

"You stay there you finish," said Hazel. "Bad place. Come homba, come kestrel."

"Damn de lot. Fight plenty."

"I bet it would, too," said Bigwig, looking with admiration at the two-inch beak and thick neck.

"We no want you finish," said Hazel. "You stay here you finish. We help you maybe."

"Piss off!"

"Come on," said Hazel immediately to the others. "Let it alone." He began to lollop back to the wood. "Let it try keeping the kestrels off for a bit."

"What's the idea, Hazel?" said Silver. "That's a savage brute. You can't make a friend out of that."

"You may be right," said Hazel. "But what's the good of a blue tit or a robin to us? They don't fly any distance. We need a big bird."

"But why do you want a bird so particularly?"

"I'll explain later," said Hazel. "I'd like Blackberry and Fiver to hear as well. But let's go underground now. If you don't want to chew pellets, I do."

During the afternoon Hazel organized more work on the warren. The Honeycomb was as good as finished-though rabbits are not methodical and are never really certain when anything is finished-and the surrounding burrows and runs were taking shape. Quite early in the evening, however, he made his way once more to the hollow. The bird was still there. It looked weaker and less alert, but snapped feebly as Hazel came up.

"Still here?" said Hazel. "You fight hawk?"

"No fight," answered the bird. "No fight, but vatch, vatch, alvays vatch. Ees no good."

"Hungry?"

The bird made no reply.

"Listen," said Hazel. "Rabbits not eat birds. Rabbits eat grass. We help you."

"Vat for 'elp me?"

"Never mind. We make you safe. Big hole. Food too."

The bird considered. "Legs fine. Ving no good. 'E bad."

"Well, walk, then."

"You 'urt me, I 'urt you like damn."

Hazel turned away. The bird spoke again.

"Ees long vay?"

"No, not far."

"Come, den."

It got up with a good deal of difficulty, staggering on its strong blood-red legs. Then it opened its wings high above its body and Hazel jumped back, startled by the great, arching span. But at once it closed them again, grimacing with pain.

"Ving no good. I come."

It followed Hazel docilely enough across the grass, but he was careful to keep out of its reach. Their arrival outside the wood caused something of a sensation, which Hazel cut short with a peremptory sharpness quite unlike his usual manner.

"Come on, get busy," he said to Dandelion and Buckthorn. "This bird's hurt and we're going to shelter it until it's better. Ask Bigwig to show you how to get it some food. It eats worms and insects. Try grasshoppers, spiders-anything. Hawkbit! Acorn! Yes, and you too, Fiver-come out of that rapt trance, or whatever you're in. We need an open, wide hole, broader than it's deep, with a flat floor a little below the level of the entrance: by nightfall."

"We've been digging all the afternoon, Hazel-"

"I know. I'll come and help you," said Hazel, "in just a little while. Only get started. The night's coming."

The astonished rabbits obeyed him, grumbling. Hazel's authority was put to something of a test, but held firm with the support of Bigwig. Although he had no idea what Hazel had in mind, Bigwig was fascinated by the strength and courage of the bird and had already accepted the idea of taking it in, without troubling himself about the reason. He led the digging while Hazel explained to the bird, as well as he could, how they lived, their ways of protecting themselves from the enemies and the kind of shelter they could provide. The amount of food the rabbits produced was not very large, but once inside the wood the bird clearly felt safer and was able to hobble about and do some foraging for itself.

By owl time Bigwig and his helpers had scratched out a kind of lobby inside the entrance to one of the runs leading down from the wood. They lined the floor with beech twigs and leaves. As darkness began to fall, the bird was installed. It was still suspicious, but seemed to be in a good deal of pain. Evidently, since it could not think of any better plan for itself, it was ready to try a rabbit hole to save its life. From outside, they could see its dark head alert in the gloom, the black eyes still watchful. It was not asleep when they themselves finished a late silflay and went underground.

Black-headed gulls are gregarious. They live in colonies where they forage and feed, chatter and fight all day long. Solitude and reticence are unnatural to them. They move southward in the breeding season and at such times a wounded one is only too likely to find itself deserted. The gull's savagery and suspicion had been due partly to pain and partly to the unnerving knowledge that it had no companions and could not fly. By the following morning its natural instincts to mix with a flock and to talk were beginning to return. Bigwig made himself its companion. He would not hear of the gull going out to forage. Before ni-Frith the rabbits had managed to produce as much as it could eat-for a time, at all events-and were able to sleep through the heat of the day. Bigwig, however, remained with the gull, making no secret of his admiration, talking and listening to it for several hours. At the evening feed he joined Hazel and Holly near the bank where Bluebell had told his story of El-ahrairah.

"How's the bird now?" asked Hazel.

"A good deal better, I think," replied Bigwig. "He's very tough, you know. My goodness, what a life he's had! You don't know what you're missing! I could sit and listen to him all day."

"How was it hurt?"

"A cat jumped on him in a farmyard. He never heard it until the last moment. It tore the muscle of one of his wings, but apparently he gave it something to remember before he made off. Then he got himself up here somehow or other and just collapsed. Think of standing up to a cat! I can see now that I haven't really started yet. Why shouldn't a rabbit stand up to a cat? Let's just suppose that-"

"But what is this bird?" interrupted Holly.

"Well, I can't quite make out," answered Bigwig. "But if I understand him properly-and I'm not at all sure that I do-he says that where he comes from there are thousands of his kind-more than we can possibly imagine. Their flocks make the whole air white and in the breeding season their nests are like leaves in a wood-so he says."

"But where? I've never seen one, even."

"He says," said Bigwig, looking very straight at Holly, "he says that a long way from here the earth stops and there isn't any more."

"Well, obviously it stops somewhere. What is there beyond?"

"Water."

"A river, you mean?"

"No," said Bigwig, "not a river. He says there's a vast place of water, going on and on. You can't see to the other side. There isn't another side. At least there is, because he's been there. Oh, I don't know-I must admit I can't altogether understand it."

"Was it telling you that it's been outside the world and come back again? That must be untrue."

"I don't know," said Bigwig, "but I'm sure he's not lying. This water, apparently, moves all the time and keeps breaking against the earth: and when he can't hear that, he misses it. That's his name-Kehaar. It's the noise the water makes."

The others were impressed in spite of themselves.

"Well, why's it here?" asked Hazel.

"He shouldn't be. He ought to have been off to this Big Water place a long time ago, to breed. Apparently a lot of them come away in winter, because it gets so cold and wild. Then they go back in summer. But he's been hurt once already this spring. It was nothing much, but it held him up. He rested and hung around a rookery for a bit. Then he got stronger and left them, and he was coming along when he stopped in the farmyard and met this foul cat."

"So when it's better it'll go on again?" said Hazel.

"Yes."

"We've been wasting our time, then."

"Why, Hazel, what is it you have in mind?"

"Go and get Blackberry and Fiver: we'd better have Silver, too. Then I'll explain."

The quiet of the evening silflay, when the western sun shone straight along the ridge, the grass tussocks threw shadows twice as long as themselves and the cool air smelled of thyme and dog roses, was something which they had all come to enjoy even more than former evenings in the meadows of Sandleford. Although they could not know it, the down was more lonely than it had been for hundreds of years. There were no sheep, and villagers from Kingsclere and Sydmonton no longer had any occasion to walk over the hills, either for business or for pleasure. In the fields of Sandleford the rabbits had seen men almost every day. Here, since their arrival, they had seen one, and him on a horse. Looking round the little group that gathered on the grass, Hazel saw that all of them-even Holly-were looking stronger, sleeker and in better shape than when they had first come to the down. Whatever might lie ahead, at least he could feel that he had not failed them so far.

"We're doing well here," he began, "or so it seems to me. We're certainly not a bunch of hlessil any more. But all the same, there's something on my mind. I'm surprised, as a matter of fact, that I should be the first one of us to start thinking about it. Unless we can find the answer, then this warren's as good as finished, in spite of all we've done."

"Why, how can that be, Hazel?" said Bigwig.

"Do you remember Nildro-hain?" asked Hazel.

"She stopped running. Poor Strawberry."

"I know. And we have no does-not one-and no does means no kittens and in a few years no warren."

It may seem incredible that the rabbits had given no thought to so vital a matter. But men have made the same mistake more than once-left the whole business out of account, or been content to trust to luck and the fortune of war. Rabbits live close to death and when death comes closer than usual, thinking about survival leaves little room for anything else. But now, in the evening sunshine on the friendly, empty down, with a good burrow at his back and the grass turning to pellets in his belly, Hazel knew that he was lonely for a doe. The others were silent and he could tell that his words had sunk in.

The rabbits grazed or lay basking in the sun. A lark went twittering up into the brighter sunshine above, soared and sang and came slowly down, ending with a sideways, spread-wing glide and a wagtail's run through the grass. The sun dipped lower. At last Blackberry said, "What's to be done? Set out again?"

"I hope not," said Hazel. "It all depends. What I'd like to do is get hold of some does and bring them here."

"Where from?"

"Another warren."

"But are there any on these hills? How do we find out? The wind never brings the least smell of rabbits."

"I'll tell you how," said Hazel "The bird. The bird will go and search for us."

"Hazel-rah," cried Blackberry, "what a marvelous idea! That bird could find out in a day what we couldn't discover for ourselves in a thousand! But are you certain it can be persuaded to do it? Surely as soon as it gets better if it'll simply fly away and leave us?"

"I can't tell," answered Hazel. "All we can do is feed it and hope for the best. But, Bigwig, since you seem to be getting on with it so well, perhaps you can explain to it how much this means to us. It has only to fly over the downs and let us know what it sees."

"You leave him to me," said Bigwig. "I think I know how to do it."

Hazel's anxiety and the reason for it were soon known to all the rabbits and there was not one who did not realize what they were up against. There was nothing very startling in what he had said. He was simply the one-as a Chief Rabbit ought to be-through whom a strong feeling, latent throughout the warren, had come to the surface. But his plan to make use of the gull excited everyone and was seen as something that not even Blackberry could have hit upon. Reconnaissance is familiar to all rabbits-indeed, it is second nature-but the idea of making use of a bird, and one so strange and savage, convinced them that Hazel, if he could really do it, must be as clever as El-ahrairah himself.

For the next few days a lot of hard work went into feeding Kehaar. Acorn and Pipkin, boasting that they were the best insect-catchers in the warren, brought in great numbers of beetles and grasshoppers. At first the gull's principal hardship was lack of water. He suffered a good deal and was reduced to tearing at the stems of the long grasses for moisture. However, during his third night in the warren it rained for three or four hours and puddles formed on the track. A cluttery spell set in, as it often does in Hampshire when haytime approaches. High winds from the south laid the grass flat all day, turning it to a dull, damascene silver. The great branches of the beeches moved little, but spoke loudly. There were squalls of rain on the wind. The weather made Kehaar restless. He walked about a good deal, watched the flying clouds and snapped up everything the foragers brought. Searching became harder, for in the wet the insects burrowed into the deep grass and had to be scratched out.

One afternoon Hazel, who now shared a burrow with Fiver as in the old days, was woken by Bigwig to be told that Kehaar had something to say to him. He made his way to Kehaar's lobby without coming above ground. The first thing he noticed was that the gull's head was molting and turning white, though a dark brown patch remained behind each eye. Hazel greeted Him and was surprised to be answered in a few words of halting, broken Lapine. Evidently Kehaar had prepared a short speech.

"Meester 'Azel, ees rabbits vork 'ard," said Kehaar. "I no finish now. Soon I go fine."

"That's good news," said Hazel. "I'm glad."

Kehaar relapsed into hedgerow vernacular.

"Meester Pigvig, 'e plenty good fella."

"Yes, he is."

" 'E say you no getting mudders. Ees finish mudders. Plenty trouble for you."

"Yes, that's true. We don't know what to do. No mothers anywhere."

"Listen. I get peeg, fine plan. I go fine now. Ving, 'e better. Vind finish, den I fly. Fly for you. Find plenty mudders, tell you vere dey are, ya?"

"Why, what a splendid idea, Kehaar! How clever of you to think of it! You very fine bird."

"Ees finish mudders for me dis year. Ees too late. All mudders sitting on nest now. Eggs come."

"I'm sorry."

"Nudder time I get mudder. Now I fly for you."

"We'll do everything we possibly can to help you."

The next day the wind dropped and Kehaar made one or two short flights. However, it was not until three days later that he felt able to set out on his search. It was a perfect June morning. He was snapping up numbers of the little white-shelled downland snails from the wet grass and cracking them in his great beak, when he suddenly turned to Bigwig and said,

"Now I fly for you,"

He opened his wings. The two-foot span arched above Bigwig, who sat perfectly still while the white feathers beat the air round his head in a kind of ceremonious farewell. Laying his ears flat in the fanned draft, he stared up at Kehaar as the gull rose, rather heavily, into the air. When he flew, his body, so long and graceful on the ground, took on the appearance of a thick, stumpy cylinder, from the front of which his red beak projected between his round black eyes. For a few moments he hovered, his body rising and falling between his wings. Then he began to climb, sailed sideways over the grass and disappeared northward below the edge of the escarpment. Bigwig returned to the hanger with the news that Kehaar had set out.

The gull was away several days-longer than the rabbits had expected. Hazel could not help wondering whether he really would return, for he knew that Kehaar, like themselves, felt the mating urge and he thought it quite likely that after all he would be off to the Big Water and the raucous, teeming gull colonies of which he had spoken with such feeling to Bigwig. As far as he was able, he kept his anxiety to himself, but one day when they were alone, he asked Fiver whether he thought Kehaar would return.

"He will return," said Fiver unhesitatingly.

"And what will he bring with him?"

"How can I tell?" replied Fiver. But later, when they were underground, silent and drowsy, he said suddenly, "The gifts of El-ahrairah. Trickery; great danger; and blessing for the warren." When Hazel questioned him again, he seemed to be unaware that he had spoken and could add nothing more.

Bigwig spent most of the hours of daylight watching for Kehaar's return. He was inclined to be surly and short, and once, when Bluebell remarked that he thought Meester Pigvig's fur cap was molting in sympathy for absent friends, he showed a flash of his old sergeant-major spirit and cuffed and abused him twice round the Honeycomb, until Holly intervened to save his faithful jester from further trouble.

It was late one afternoon, with a light north wind blowing and the smell of hay drifting up from the fields of Sydmonton, when Bigwig came hurtling down into the Honeycomb to announce that Kehaar was back. Hazel suppressed his excitement and told everyone to keep out of the way while he went to see him alone. On second thoughts, however, he took Fiver and Bigwig with him.

The three of them found Kehaar back in his lobby. It was full of droppings, messy and malodorous. Rabbits will not excrete underground and Kehaar's habit of fouling his own nest had always disgusted Hazel. Now, in his eagerness to hear his news, the guano smell seemed almost welcome.

"Glad to see you back, Kehaar," he said. "Are you tired?"

"Ving 'e still go tired. Fly liddle bit, stop liddle bit, everyt'ing go fine."

"Are you hungry? Shall we get you some insects?"

"Fine. Fine. Good fellas. Plenty beetle." (All insects were «beetle» to Kehaar.)

Clearly, he had missed their attentions and was ready to enjoy being back. Although he no longer needed to have food brought to the lobby, he evidently felt that he deserved it. Bigwig went to get his foragers and Kehaar kept them busy until sunset At last he looked shrewdly at Fiver and said,

"Eh, Meester Liddle Von, you know vat I pring, ya?"

"I've no idea," replied Fiver, rather shortly.

"Den I tell. All dis peeg 'ill, I go along 'im, dis vay, dat vay, vere sun come up, vere sun go down. Ees no rabbits. Ees nodings, nodings."

He stopped. Hazel looked at Fiver apprehensively.

"Den I go down, go down in bottom. Ees farm vid peeg trees all round, on liddle hill. You know?"

"No, we don't know it. But go on."

"I show you. 'E not far. You see 'im. Und here ees rabbits. Ees rabbits live in box; live vid men. You know?"

"Live with men? Did you say 'live with men'?"

"Ya, ya, live vid men. In shed; rabbits live in box in shed. Men pring food. You know?"

"I know this happens," said Hazel. "I've heard of it. That's fine, Kehaar. You've been very thorough. But it can't help us, can it?"

"I t'ink ees mudders. In peeg box. But else ees no rabbits; not in fields, not in voods. No rabbits. Anyvays I no see 'em."

"That sounds bad."

"Vait. I tell more. Now you 'ear. I go flying, oder vay, vere sun go middle of day. You know, dis vay ees Peeg Vater."

"Did you go to the Big Water, then?" asked Bigwig.

"Na, na, not near so far. But out dis vay ees river, you know?"

"No, we haven't been so far."

"Ees river," repeated Kehaar. "Und here ees town of rabbits."

"On the other side of the river?"

"Na, na. You go dat vay, ees peeg fields all de vay. Den after long vay ees come to town of rabbits, ver' big. Und after dat ees iron road und den river."

"Iron road?" asked Fiver.

"Ya, ya, iron road. You not seen heem-iron road? Men make heem."

Kehaar's speech was so outlandish and distorted at the best of times that it was only too common for the rabbits to be unsure what he meant. The vernacular words which he used now for «iron» and «road» (familiar enough to seagulls) his listeners had scarcely ever heard. Kehaar was quick to impatience and now, as often, they felt at a disadvantage in the face of his familiarity with a wider world than their own. Hazel thought quickly. Two things were clear. Kehaar had evidently found a big warren some way off to the south: and whatever the iron road was, the warren was on this side both of it and of a river. If he had understood rightly, it seemed to follow that the iron road and the river could be ignored for their purposes.

"Kehaar," he said, "I want to be certain. Can we get to the rabbits' town without bothering about the iron road and the river?"

"Ya, ya. Not go to iron road. Rabbits' town in bushes for peeg, lonely fields. Plenty mudders."

"How long would it take to go from here to the-to the town?"

"I t'ink two days. Ees long vay."

"Good for you, Kehaar. You've done everything we hoped. You rest now. We'll feed you as long as you want"

"Sleep now. Tomorrow plenty beetle, ya, ya."

The rabbits made their way back to the Honeycomb. Hazel told Kehaar's news and a long, disorderly, intermittent discussion began. This was their way of reaching a conclusion. The fact that there was a warren two or three days' journey to the south flickered and oscillated down among them as a penny wavers down through deep water moving one way and the other, shifting, vanishing, reappearing, but always sinking toward the firm bottom. Hazel let the talk run on as long as it would, until at last they dispersed and slept.

The next morning they went about their lives as usual, feeding Kehaar and themselves, playing and digging. But all this time, just as a drop of water slowly swells until it is heavy enough to fall from a twig, the idea of what they meant to do was becoming clear and unanimous. By the following day Hazel saw it plain. It so happened that the time for speaking came when he was sitting on the bank at sunrise, with Fiver and three or four others. There was no need to summon a general gathering. The thing was settled. When it reached them, those who were not there would accept what he had said without having heard him at all.

"This warren that Kehaar found," said Hazel, "he said it was big."

"So we can't take it by force," said Bigwig.

"I don't think I want to go and join it," said Hazel. "Do you?"

"And leave here?" replied Dandelion. "After all our work? Besides, I reckon we'd have a thin time. No, I'm sure none of us wants to do that."

"What we want is to get some does and bring them back here," said Hazel. "Will that be difficult, do you think?"

"I should have thought not," said Holly. "Big warrens are often overcrowded and some of the rabbits can't get enough to eat. The young does get edgy and nervous and some of them don't have any kittens on that account. At least, the kittens begin to grow inside them and then they melt away again into their bodies. You know this?"

"I didn't know," said Strawberry.

"That's because you've never been overcrowded. But our warren-the Threarah's warren-was overcrowded a year or two back and a lot of the younger does were re-absorbing their litters before they were born. The Threarah told me that long ago El-ahrairah made a bargain with Frith. Frith promised him that rabbits were not to be born dead or unwanted. If there's little chance of a decent life for them, it's a doe's privilege to take them back into her body unborn."

"Yes, I remember the bargain story," said Hazel. "So you think there may be discontented does? That's hopeful. We're agreed, then, that we ought to send an expedition to this warren and that there's a good chance of being successful without fighting. Do you want everyone to go?"

"I'd say not," said Blackberry. "Two or three days' journey; and we're all in danger, both going and coming. It would be less dangerous for three or four rabbits than for hrair. Three or four can travel quickly and aren't conspicuous: and the Chief Rabbit of this warren would be less likely to object to a few strangers coming with a civil request."

"I'm sure that's right," said Hazel. "We'll send four rabbits: and they can explain how we come to be in this difficulty and ask to be allowed to persuade some does to come back with them. I don't see that any Chief Rabbit can object to that. I wonder which of us would be the best to send?"

"Hazel-rah, you mustn't go," said Dandelion. "You're needed here and we don't want to risk you. Everyone's agreed on that."

Hazel had known already that they would not let him lead the embassy. It was a disappointment, but nevertheless he felt that they were right The other warren would have little opinion of a Chief Rabbit who ran his own errands. Besides, he was not particularly impressive in appearance or as a speaker. This was a job for someone else.

"All right," he said. "I knew you wouldn't let me go. I'm not the right fellow anyway-Holly is. He knows everything about moving in the open and he'll be able to talk well when he gets there."

No one contradicted this. Holly was the obvious choice, but to select his companions was less easy. Everyone was ready to go, but the business was so important that at last they considered each rabbit in turn, discussing who would be the most likely to survive the long journey, to arrive in good shape and to go down well in a strange warren. Bigwig, rejected on the grounds that he might quarrel in strange company, was inclined to be sulky at first, but came round when he remembered that he could go on looking after Kehaar. Holly himself wanted to take Bluebell but, as Blackberry said, one funny joke at the expense of the Chief Rabbit might ruin everything. Finally they chose Silver, Buckthorn and Strawberry. Strawberry said little, but was obviously very much pleased. He had suffered a good deal to show that he was no coward and now he had the satisfaction of knowing that he was worth something to his new friends.

They started early in the morning, in the gray light. Kehaar had undertaken to fly out later in the day, to make sure they were going in the right direction and bring back news of their progress. Hazel and Bigwig went with them to the southern end of the hanger and watched as they slipped away, heading to the west of the distant farm. Holly seemed confident and the other three were in high spirits. Soon they were lost to sight in the grass and Hazel and Bigwig turned back into the wood.

"Well, we've done the best we can," said Hazel. "The rest's up to them and to El-ahrairah now. But surely it ought to be all right?"

"Not a doubt of it," said Bigwig. "Let's hope they're back soon. I'm looking forward to a nice doe and a litter of kittens in my burrow. Lots of little Bigwigs, Hazel! Think of that, and tremble!"

24. Nuthanger Farm

Hazel sat on the bank in the midsummer night There had been no more than five hours' darkness and that of a pallid, twilit quality which kept him wakeful and restless. Everything was going well. Kehaar had found Holly during the afternoon and corrected his line a little to the west He had left him in the shelter of a thick hedge, sure of his course for the big warren. It seemed certain now that two days would be enough for the journey. Bigwig and some of the other rabbits had already begun enlarging their burrows in preparation for Holly's return. Kehaar had had a violent quarrel with a kestrel, screaming insults in a voice fit to startle a Cornish harbor: and although it had ended inconclusively, the kestrel seemed likely to regard the neighborhood of the hanger with healthy respect for the future. Things had not looked better since they had first set out from Sandleford.

A spirit of happy mischief entered into Hazel. He felt as he had on the morning when they crossed the Enborne and he had set out alone and found the beanfield. He was confident and ready for adventure. But what adventure? Something worth telling to Holly and Silver on their return. Something to-well, not to diminish what they were going to do. No, of course not-but just to show them that their Chief Rabbit was up to anything that they were up to. He thought it over as he hopped down the bank and sniffed out a patch of salad burnet in the grass. What, now, would be likely to give them just a little, not unpleasant shock? Suddenly he thought, "Suppose, when they got back, that there were one or two does here already?" And in the same moment he remembered what Kehaar had said about a box full of rabbits at the farm. What sort of rabbits could they be? Did they ever come out of their box? Had they ever seen a wild rabbit? Kehaar had said that the farm was not far from the foot of the down, on a little hill. So it could easily be reached in the early morning, before its men were about. Any dogs would probably be chained, but the cats would be loose. A rabbit could outrun a cat as long as he kept in the open and saw it coming first. The important thing was not to be stalked unawares. He should be able to move along the hedgerows without attracting elil, unless he was very unlucky.

But what did he intend to do, exactly? Why was he going to the farm? Hazel finished the last of the burnet and answered himself in the starlight. "I'll just have a look round," he said, "and if I can find those box rabbits I'll try to talk to them; nothing more than that. I'm not going to take any risks-well, not real risks-not until I see whether it's worth it, anyway."

Should he go alone? It would be safer and more pleasant to take a companion; but not more than one. They must not attract attention. Who would be best? Bigwig? Dandelion? Hazel rejected them. He needed someone who would do as he was told and not start having ideas of his own. At once he thought of Pipkin. Pipkin would follow him without question and do anything he asked. At this moment he was probably asleep in the burrow which he shared with Bluebell and Acorn, down a short run leading off the Honeycomb.

Hazel was lucky. He found Pipkin close to the mouth of the burrow and already awake. He brought him out without disturbing the other two rabbits and led him up by the run that gave on the bank. Pipkin looked about him uncertainly, bewildered and half expecting some danger.

"It's all right, Hlao-roo," said Hazel. "There's nothing to be afraid of. I want you to come down the hill and help me to find a farm I've heard about. We're just going to have a look round it."

"Round a farm, Hazel-rah? What for? Won't it be dangerous? Cats and dogs and-"

"No, you'll be quite all right with me. Just you and me-I don't want anyone else. I've got a secret plan; you mustn't tell the others-for the time being, anyway. I particularly want you to come and no one else will do."

This had exactly the effect that Hazel intended. Pipkin needed no further persuasion and they set off together, over the grass track, across the turf beyond and down the escarpment. They went through the narrow belt of trees and came into the field where Holly had called Bigwig in the dark. Here Hazel paused, sniffing and listening. It was the time before dawn when owls return, usually hunting as they go. Although a full-grown rabbit is not really in danger from owls, there are few who take no account of them. Stoats and foxes might be abroad also, but the night was still and damp and Hazel, secure in his mood of gay confidence, felt sure that he would either smell or hear any hunter on four feet.

Wherever the farm might be, it must lie beyond the road that ran along the opposite edge of the field. He set off at an easy pace, with Pipkin close behind. Moving quietly in and out of the hedgerow up which Holly and Bluebell had come and passing, on their way, under the cables humming faintly in the darkness above, they took only a few minutes to reach the road.

There are times when we know for a certainty that all is well. A batsman who has played a fine innings will say afterward that he felt he could not miss the ball, and a speaker or an actor, on his lucky day, can sense his audience carrying him as though he were swimming in miraculous, buoyant water. Hazel had this feeling now. All round him was the quiet summer night, luminous with starlight but paling to dawn on one side. There was nothing to fear and he felt ready to skip through a thousand farmyards one after the other. As he sat with Pipkin on the bank above the tar-smelling road, it did not strike him as particularly lucky when he saw a young rat scuttle across from the opposite hedge and disappear into a clump of fading stitchwort below them. He had known that some guide or other would turn up. He scrambled quickly down the bank and found the rat nosing in the ditch.

"The farm," said Hazel, "where's the farm-near here, on a little hill?"

The rat stared at him with twitching whiskers. It had no particular reason to be friendly, but there was something in Hazel's look that made a civil answer natural.

"Over road. Up lane."

The sky was growing lighter each moment. Hazel crossed the road without waiting for Pipkin, who caught him up under the hedge bordering the near side of the little lane. From here, after another listening pause, they began to make their way up the slope toward the northern skyline.

Nuthanger is like a farm in an old tale. Between Ecchinswell and the foot of Watership Down and about half a mile from each, there is a broad knoll, steeper on the north side but falling gently on the south-like the down ridge itself. Narrow lanes climb both slopes and come together in a great ring of elm trees which encircles the flat summit. Any wind-even the lightest-draws from the height of the elms a rushing sound, multifoliate and powerful. Within this ring stands the farmhouse, with its barns and outbuildings. The house may be two hundred years old or it may be older, built of brick, with a stone-faced front looking south toward the down. On the east side, in front of the house, a barn stands clear of the ground on staddle stones; and opposite is the cow byre.

As Hazel and Pipkin reached the top of the slope, the first light showed clearly the farmyard and buildings. The birds singing all about them were those to which they had been accustomed in former days. A robin on a low branch twittered a phrase and listened for another that answered him from beyond the farmhouse. A chaffinch gave its little falling song and further off, high in an elm, a chiffchaff began to call. Hazel stopped and then sat up, the better to scent the air. Powerful smells of straw and cow dung mingled with those of elm leaves, ashes and cattle feed. Fainter traces came to his nose as the overtones of a bell sound in a trained ear. Tobacco, naturally: a good deal of cat and rather less dog and then, suddenly and beyond doubt, rabbit. He looked at Pipkin and saw that he, too, had caught it.

While these scents reached them they were also listening. But beyond the light movements of birds and the first buzzing of the flies immediately around them, they could hear nothing but the continual susurration of the trees. Under the northern steep of the down the air had been still, but here the southerly breeze was magnified by the elms, with their myriads of small, fluttering leaves, just as the effect of sunlight on a garden is magnified by dew. The sound, coming from the topmost branches, disturbed Hazel because it suggested some huge approach-an approach that was never completed: and he and Pipkin remained still for some time, listening tensely to this loud yet meaningless vehemence high overhead.

They saw no cat, but near the house stood a flat-roofed dog kennel. They could just glimpse the dog asleep inside-a large, smooth-haired, black dog, with head on paws. Hazel could not see a chain; but then, after a moment, he noticed the line of a thin rope that came out through the kennel door and ended in some sort of fastening on the roof. "Why a rope?" he wondered and then thought, "Because a restless dog cannot rattle it in the night."

The two rabbits began to wander among the outbuildings. At first they took care to remain in cover and continually on the watch for cats. But they saw none and soon grew bolder, crossing open spaces and even stopping to nibble at dandelions in the patches of weeds and rough grass. Guided by scent, Hazel made his way to a low-roofed shed. The door was half open and he went through it with scarcely a pause at the brick threshold. Immediately opposite the door, on a broad wooden shelf-a kind of platform-stood a wire-fronted hutch. Through the mesh he could see a brown bowl, some greenstuff and the ears of two or three rabbits. As he stared, one of the rabbits came close to the wire, looked out and saw him.

Beside the platform, on the near side, was an up-ended bale of straw. Hazel jumped lightly on it and from there to the thick planks, which were old and soft-surfaced, dusty and covered with chaff. Then he turned back to Pipkin, waiting just inside the door.

"Hlao-roo," he said, "there's only one way out of this place. You'll have to keep watching for cats or we may be trapped. Stay at the door and if you see a cat outside, tell me at once."

"Right, Hazel-rah," said Pipkin. "It's all clear at the moment."

Hazel went up to the side of the hutch. The wired front projected over the edge of the shelf so that he could neither reach it nor look in, but there was a knothole in one of the boards facing him and on the far side he could see a twitching nose.

"I am Hazel-rah," he said. "I have come to talk to you. Can you understand me?"

The answer was in slightly strange but perfectly intelligible Lapine.

"Yes, we understand you. My name is Boxwood. Where do you come from?"

"From the hills. My friends and I live as we please, without men. We eat the grass, lie in the sun and sleep underground. How many are you?"

"Four. Bucks and does."

"Do you ever come out?"

"Yes, sometimes. A child takes us out and puts us in a pen on the grass."

"I have come to tell you about my warren. We need more rabbits. We want you to run away from the farm and join us."

"There's a wire door at the back of this hutch," said Boxwood. "Come down there: we can talk more easily."

The door was made of wire netting on a wooden frame, with two leather hinges nailed to the uprights and a hasp and staple fastened with a twist of wire. Four rabbits were crowded against the wire, pressing their noses through the mesh. Two- Laurel and Clover-were short-haired black Angoras. The others, Boxwood and his doe Haystack, were black-and-white Himalayans.

Hazel began to speak about the life of the downs and the excitement and freedom enjoyed by wild rabbits. In his usual straightforward way he told about the predicament of his warren in having no does and how he had come to look for some. "But," he said, "we don't want to steal your does. All four of you are welcome to join us, bucks and does alike. There's plenty for everyone on the hills." He went on to talk of the evening feed in the sunset and of early morning in the long grass.

The hutch rabbits seemed at once bewildered and fascinated. Clover, the Angora doe-a strong, active rabbit-was clearly excited by Hazel's description and asked several questions about the warren and the downs. It became plain that they thought of their life in the hutch as dull but safe. They had learned a good deal about elil from some source or other and seemed sure that few wild rabbits survived for long. Hazel realized that although they were glad to talk to him and welcomed his visit because it brought a little excitement and change into their monotonous life, it was not within their capacity to take a decision and act on it. They did not know how to make up their minds. To him and his companions, sensing and acting was second nature; but these rabbits had never had to act to save their lives or even to find a meal. If he was going to get any of them as far as the down, they would have to be urged. He sat quiet for a little, nibbling a patch of bran spilled on the boards outside the hutch. Then he said,

"I must go back now to my friends in the hills: but we shall return. We shall come one night, and when we do, believe me, we shall open your hutch as easily as the farmer does: and then, any of you who wish will be free to come with us."

Boxwood was about to reply when suddenly Pipkin spoke from the floor. "Hazel, there's a cat in the yard outside!"

"We're not afraid of cats," said Hazel to Boxwood, "as long as we're in the open." Trying to appear unhurried, he went back to the floor by way of the straw bale and crossed over to the door. Pipkin was looking through the hinge. He was plainly frightened.

"I think it's smelled us, Hazel," he said. "I'm afraid it knows where we are."

"Don't stay there, then," said Hazel. "Follow me close and run when I do." Without waiting to look out through the hinge, he went round the half-open door of the shed and stopped on the threshold.

The cat, a tabby with white chest and paws, was at the further end of the little yard, walking slowly and deliberately along the side of a pile of logs. When Hazel appeared in the doorway it saw him at once and stood stock still, with staring eyes and twitching tail. Hazel hopped slowly across the threshold and stopped again. Already sunlight was slanting across the yard, and in the stillness the flies buzzed about a patch of dung a few feet away. There was a smell of straw and dust and hawthorn.

"You look hungry," said Hazel to the cat. "Rats getting too clever, I suppose?"

The cat made no reply. Hazel sat blinking in the sunshine. The cat crouched almost flat on the ground, thrusting its head forward between its front paws. Close behind, Pipkin fidgeted and Hazel, never taking his eyes from the cat, could sense that he was trembling.

"Don't be frightened, Hlao-roo," he whispered, "I'll get you away, but you must wait till it comes for us. Keep still."

The cat began to lash its tail. Its hindquarters lifted and wagged from side to side in mounting excitement.

"Can you run?" said Hazel. "I think not. Why, you pop-eyed, back-door saucer-scraper-"

The cat flung itself across the yard and the two rabbits leaped into flight with great thrusts of their hind legs. The cat came very fast indeed and although both of them had been braced ready to move on the instant, they were barely out of the yard in time. Racing up the side of the long barn, they heard the Labrador barking in excitement as it ran to the full extent of its rope. A man's voice shouted to it. From the cover of the hedge beside the lane they turned and looked back. The cat had stopped short and was licking one paw with a pretense of nonchalance.

"They hate to look silly," said Hazel. "It won't give us any more trouble. If it hadn't charged at us like that, it would have followed us much further and probably called up another as well. And somehow you can't make a dash unless they do it first. It's a good thing you saw it coming, Hlao-roo."

"I'm glad if I helped, Hazel. But what were we up to, and why did you talk to the rabbits in the box?"

"I'll tell you all about it later on. Let's go into the field now and feed; then we can make our way home as slowly as you like."

25. The Raid

As things turned out, Hazel and Pipkin did not come back to the Honeycomb until the evening. They were still feeding in the field when it came on to rain, with a cold wind, and they took shelter first in the nearby ditch and then-since the ditch was on a slope and had a fair flow of rainwater in about ten minutes-among some sheds halfway down the lane. They burrowed into a thick pile of straw and for some time remained listening for rats. But all was quiet and they grew drowsy and fell asleep, while outside the rain settled in for the morning. When they woke it was mid-afternoon and still drizzling. It seemed to Hazel that there was no particular hurry. The going would be troublesome in the wet, and anyway no self-respecting rabbit could leave without a forage round the sheds. A pile of mangels and swedes occupied them for some time and they set out only when the light was beginning to fade. They took their time and reached the hanger a little before dark, with nothing worse to trouble them than the discomfort of soaking-wet fur. Only two or three of the rabbits were out to a rather subdued silflay in the wet. No one remarked on their absence and Hazel went underground at once, telling Pipkin to say nothing about their adventure for the time being. He found his burrow empty, lay down and fell asleep.

Waking, he found Fiver beside him as usual. It was some time before dawn. The earth floor felt pleasantly dry and snug and he was about to go back to sleep when Fiver spoke.

"You've been wet through, Hazel."

"Well, what about it? The grass is wet, you know."

"You didn't get so wet on silflay. You were soaked. You weren't here at all yesterday, were you?"

"Oh, I went foraging down the hill."

"Eating swedes: and your feet smell of farmyard-hens' droppings and bran. But there's some other funny thing besides-something I can't smell. What happened?"

"Well, I had a bit of a brush with a cat, but why worry?"

"Because you're concealing something, Hazel. Something dangerous."

"It's Holly that's in danger, not I. Why bother about me?"

"Holly?" replied Fiver in surprise. "But Holly and the others reached the big warren early yesterday evening. Kehaar told us. Do you mean to say you didn't know?"

Hazel felt fairly caught out. "Well, I know now," he replied. "I'm glad to hear it."

"So it comes to this," said Fiver. "You went to a farm yesterday and escaped from a cat. And whatever you were up to, it was so much on your mind that you forgot to ask about Holly last night."

"Well, all right, Fiver-I'll tell you all about it. I took Pipkin and went to that farm that Kehaar told us about where there are rabbits in a hutch. I found the rabbits and talked to them and I've taken a notion to go back one night and get them out, to come and join us here."

"What for?"

"Well, two of them are does, that's what for."

"But if Holly's successful we shall soon have plenty of does: and from all I've ever heard of hutch rabbits, they don't take easily to wild life. The truth is, you're just a silly show-off."

"A silly show-off?" said Hazel. "Well, we'll just see whether Bigwig and Blackberry think so."

"Risking your life and other rabbits' lives for something that's of little or no value to us," said Fiver. "Oh, yes, of course the others will go with you. You're their Chief Rabbit. You're supposed to decide what's sensible and they trust you. Persuading them will prove nothing, but three or four dead rabbits will prove you're a fool, when it's too late."

"Oh, be quiet," answered Hazel. "I'm going to sleep."

During silflay next morning, with Pipkin for a respectful chorus, he told the others about his visit to the farm. As he had expected, Bigwig jumped at the idea of a raid to free the hutch rabbits.

"It can't go wrong," he said. "It's a splendid idea, Hazel! I don't know how you open a hutch, but Blackberry will see to that. What annoys me is to think you ran from that cat. A good rabbit's a match for a cat, any day. My mother went for one once and she fairly gave it something to remember, I can tell you: scratched its fur out like willow herb in autumn! Just leave the farm cats to me and one or two of the others!"

Blackberry took a little more convincing: but he, like Bigwig and Hazel himself, was secretly disappointed not to have gone on the expedition with Holly: and when the other two pointed out that they were relying on him to tell them how to get the hutch open, he agreed to come.

"Do we need to take everyone?" he asked. "You say the dog's tied up and I suppose there can't be more than three cats. Too many rabbits will only be a nuisance in the dark: someone will get lost and we shall have to spend time looking for him."

"Well, Dandelion, Speedwell and Hawkbit, then," said Bigwig, "and leave the others behind. Do you mean to go tonight, Hazel-rah?"

"Yes, the sooner the better," said Hazel. "Get hold of those three and tell them. Pity it's going to be dark-we could have taken Kehaar: he'd have enjoyed it."

However, their hopes for that night were disappointed, for the rain returned before dusk, settling in on a northwest wind and carrying up the hill the sweet-sour smell of flowering privet from cottage hedges below. Hazel sat on the bank until the light had quite faded. At last, when it was clear that the rain was going to stay for the night, he joined the others in the Honeycomb. They had persuaded Kehaar to come down out of the wind and wet, and one of Dandelion's tales of El-ahrairah was followed by an extraordinary story that left everyone mystified but fascinated, about a time when Frith had to go away on a journey, leaving the whole world to be covered with rain. But a man built a great floating hutch that held all the animals and birds until Frith returned and let them out.

"It won't happen tonight, will it, Hazel-rah?" asked Pipkin, listening to the rain in the beech leaves outside. "There's no hutch here."

"Kehaar'll fly you up to the moon, Hlao-roo," said Bluebell, "and you can come down on Bigwig's head like a birch branch in the frost. But there's time to go to sleep first."

Before Fiver slept, however, he talked again to Hazel about the raid.

"I suppose it's no good asking you not to go?" he said.

"Look here," answered Hazel, "have you got one of your bad turns about the farm? If you have, why not say so straight out? Then we'd all know where we were."

"I've no feelings about the farm one way or the other," said Fiver. "But that doesn't necessarily mean it's all right. The feelings come when they will-they don't always come. Not for the lendri, not for the crow. If it comes to that, I've no idea what's happening to Holly and the others. It might be good or bad. But there's something that frightens me about you yourself, Hazel: just you, not any of the others. You're all alone, sharp and clear, like a dead branch against the sky."

"Well, if you mean you can see trouble for me and not for any of the others, tell them and I'll leave it to them to decide whether I ought to keep out of it. But that's giving up a lot, Fiver, you know. Even with your word for it, someone's bound to think I'm afraid."

"Well, I say it's not worth the risk, Hazel. Why not wait for Holly to come back? That's all we have to do."

"I'll be snared if I wait for Holly. Can't you see that the very thing I want is to have these does here when he comes back? But look, Fiver, I'll tell you what. I've come to trust you so much that I'll take the greatest care. In fact, I won't even go into the farmyard myself. I'll stay outside, at the top of the lane: and if that's not meeting your fears halfway, then I don't know what is."

Fiver said no more and Hazel turned his thoughts to the raid and the difficulty he foresaw of getting the hutch rabbits to go the distance back to the warren.

The next day was bright and dry, with a fresh wind that cleared up what remained of the wet. The clouds came racing over the ridge from the south as they had on the May evening when Hazel first climbed the down. But now they were higher and smaller, settling at last into a mackerel sky like a beach at low tide. Hazel took Bigwig and Blackberry to the edge of the escarpment, whence they could look across to Nuthanger on its little hill. He described the approach and went on to explain how the rabbit hutch was to be found. Bigwig was in high spirits. The wind and the prospect of action excited him and he spent some time with Dandelion, Hawkbit and Speedwell, pretending to be a cat and encouraging them to attack him as realistically as they could. Hazel, whose talk with Fiver had somewhat clouded him, recovered as he watched them tussling over the grass and ended by joining in himself, first as an attacker and then as the cat, staring and quivering for all the world like the Nuthanger tabby.

"I shall be disappointed if we don't meet a cat after all this," said Dandelion, as he waited for his turn to run at a fallen beech branch from one side, claw it twice and dash out again. "I feel a really dangerous animal."

"You vatch heem, Meester Dando," said Kehaar, who was hunting for snails in the grass nearby, "Meester Pigvig, 'e vant you t'ink all vun peeg yoke; make you prave. Cat 'e no yoke. You no see 'im, you no 'ear 'im. Den yomp! 'E come."

"But we're not going there to eat, Kehaar," said Bigwig. "That makes all the difference. We shan't stop watching for cats the whole time."

"Why not eat the cat?" said Bluebell. "Or bring one back here for breeding? That ought to improve the warren stock no end."

Hazel and Bigwig had decided that the raid should be carried out as soon after dark as the farm was quiet. This meant that they would cover the half mile to the outlying sheds at sunset, instead of risking the confusion of a night journey over ground that only Hazel knew. They could steal a meal among the swedes, halt till darkness and cover the short distance to the farm after a good rest. Then-provided they could cope with the cats-there would be plenty of time to tackle the hutch; whereas if they were to arrive at dawn they would be working against time before men came on the scene. Finally, the hutch rabbits would not be missed until the following morning.

"And remember," said Hazel, "it'll probably take these rabbits a long time to get to the down. We shall have to be patient with them. I'd rather do that in darkness, elil or no elil. We don't want to be messing about in broad daylight."

"If it comes to the worst," said Bigwig, "we can leave the hutch rabbits and bolt. Elil take the hindmost, don't they? I know it's tough, but if there's real trouble we ought to save our own rabbits first. Let's hope that doesn't happen, though."

When they came to set out, Fiver was nowhere to be seen. Hazel felt relieved, for he had been afraid that Fiver might say something that would lower their spirits. But there was nothing worse to contend with than Pipkin's disappointment at being left behind; and this was dispelled when Hazel assured him that the only reason was that he had already done his bit. Bluebell, Acorn and Pipkin came with them to the foot of the hill and watched them down the hedgerow.

They reached the sheds in the twilight after sunset The summer nightfall was unbroken by owls and so quiet that they could plainly hear the intermittent, monotonous "Chug chug chug" of a nightingale in the distant woods. Two rats among the swedes showed their teeth, thought better of it and left them alone. When they had foraged, they rested comfortably in the straw until the western light was quite gone.

Rabbits do not name the stars, but nevertheless Hazel was familiar with the sight of Capella rising; and he watched it now until it stood gold and bright in the dark northeastern horizon to the right of the farm. When it reached a certain point which he had fixed, beside a bare branch, he roused the others and led them up the slope toward the elms. Near the top he slipped through the hedge and brought them down into the lane.

Hazel had already told Bigwig of his promise to Fiver to keep out of danger; and Bigwig, who had changed much since the early days, had no fault to find.

"If that's what Fiver says, you'd better do it, Hazel," he said. "Anyhow it'll suit us. You stay outside the farm in a safe place and we'll bring the rabbits out to you: then you can take over and get us all away." What Hazel had not said was that the idea that he should remain in the lane was his own suggestion, and that Fiver had acquiesced only because he could not persuade him to give up the idea of the raid altogether.

Crouching under a fallen branch on the verge of the lane, Hazel watched the others as they followed Bigwig down toward the farmyard. They went slowly, rabbit fashion, hop, step and pause. The night was dark and they were soon out of sight, though he could hear them moving down the side of the long barn. He settled down to wait.

Bigwig's hopes of action were fulfilled almost at once. The cat that he met as he reached the far end of the barn was not Hazel's tabby, but another; ginger, black and white (and therefore a female); one of those slim, trotting, quick-moving, tail-twitching cats that sit on farm windowsills in the rain or keep watch from the tops of sacks on sunny afternoons. It came briskly round the corner of the barn, saw the rabbits and stopped dead.

Without an instant's hesitation Bigwig went straight for it, as though it had been the beech branch on the down. But quicker even than he Dandelion ran forward, scratched it and leaped clear. As it turned, Bigwig threw his full weight upon it from the other side. The cat closed with him, biting and scratching, and Bigwig rolled over on the ground. The others could hear him swearing like a cat himself and struggling for a hold. Then he sank one back leg into the cat's side and kicked backward rapidly, several times.

Anyone who is familiar with cats knows that they do not care for a determined assailant. A dog that tries to make itself pleasant to a cat may very well get scratched for its pains. But let that same dog rush in to the attack and many a cat will not wait to meet it. The farm cat was bewildered by the speed and fury of Bigwig's charge. It was no weakling and a good ratter, but it had the bad luck to be up against a dedicated fighter who was spoiling for action. As it scrabbled out of Bigwig's reach, Speedwell cuffed it across the face. This was the last blow struck, for the wounded cat made off across the yard and disappeared under the fence of the cow byre.

Bigwig was bleeding from three deep, parallel scratches on the inside of one hind leg. The others gathered round, praising him, but he cut them short, looking round the dark yard as he tried to get his bearings.

"Come on," he said. "Quickly, too, while the dog's still quiet. The shed: the hutch-where do we go?"

It was Hawkbit who found the little yard. Hazel had been anxious in case the shed door might be shut; but it stood just ajar and the five of them slipped in one after the other. In the thick gloom they could not make out the hutch, but they could both smell and hear the rabbits.

"Blackberry," said Bigwig quickly, "you come with me and get the hutch open. You other three, keep watching.

If another cat comes, you'll have to take it on yourselves."

"Fine," said Dandelion. "Just leave it to us."

Bigwig and Blackberry found the straw bale and climbed on the planks. As they did so, Boxwood spoke from the hutch.

"Who's that? Hazel-rah, have you come back?"

"Hazel-rah has sent us," answered Blackberry. "We've come to let you out. Will you come with us?"

There was a pause and some movement in the hay and then Clover replied, "Yes, let us out."

Blackberry sniffed his way round to the wire door and sat up, nosing over the frame, the hasp and the staple. It took him some time to realize that the leather hinges were soft enough to bite. Then he found that they lay so smooth and flush with the frame that he could not get his teeth to them. Several times he tried to find a grip and at last sat back on his haunches, at a loss.

"I don't-think this door's going to be any good," he said. "I wonder whether there's some other way?"

At that moment it happened that Boxwood stood on his hind legs and put his front paws high on the wire. Beneath his weight the top of the door was pressed slightly outward and the upper of the two leather hinges gave slightly where the outer nail held it to the body of the hutch itself. As Boxwood dropped back on all fours, Blackberry saw that the hinge had buckled and risen just clear of the wood.

"Try it now," he said to Bigwig.

Bigwig got his teeth to the hinge and pulled. It tore a very little.

"By Frith, that'll do," said Blackberry, for all the world like the Duke of Wellington at Salamanca. "We just need time, that's all."

The hinge had been well made and did not give way until they had put it to a great deal more tugging and biting. Dandelion grew nervous and twice gave a false alarm. Bigwig, realizing that the sentries were on the jump from watching and waiting with nothing to do, changed places with him and sent Speedwell up to take over from Blackberry. When at last Dandelion and Speedwell had pulled the leather strip off the nail, Bigwig came back to the hutch himself. But they did not seem much nearer to success. Whenever one of the rabbits inside stood up and rested its forepaws on the upper part of the wire, the door pivoted lightly on the axis of the staple and the lower hinge. But the lower hinge did not tear. Blowing through his whiskers with impatience, Bigwig brought Blackberry back from the threshold. "What's to be done?" he said. "We need some magic, like that lump of wood you shoved into the river."

Blackberry looked at the door as Boxwood, inside, pushed it again. The upright of the frame pressed tight against the lower strip of leather, but it held smooth and firm, offering no purchase for teeth.

"Push it the other way-push from this side," he said, "You push, Bigwig. Tell that rabbit inside to get down." When Bigwig stood up and pushed the top of the door inward, the frame immediately pivoted much further than before, because there was no sill along the bottom of the outer side to stop it. The leather hinge twisted and Bigwig nearly lost his balance. If it had not been for the metal staple arresting the pivoting, he might actually have fallen inside the hutch. Startled, he jumped back, growling.

"Well, you said magic, didn't you?" said Blackberry with satisfaction. "Do it again."

No strip of leather held by only one broad-headed nail at each end can stand up for long to repeated twisting. Soon one of the nailheads was almost out of sight under the frayed edges.

"Careful now," said Blackberry. "If it gives way suddenly, you'll go flying. Just pull it off with your teeth."

Two minutes later the door hung sagging on the staple alone. Clover pushed the hinge side open and came out, followed by Boxwood.

When several creatures-men or animals-have worked together to overcome something offering resistance and have at last succeeded, there follows often a pause-as though they felt the propriety of paying respect to the adversary who has put up so good a fight. The great tree falls, splitting, cracking, rushing down in leaves to the final, shuddering blow along the ground. Then the foresters are silent, and do not at once sit down. After hours, the deep snowdrift has been cleared and the lorry is ready to take the men home out of the cold. But they stand a while, leaning on their spades and only nodding unsmilingly as the car-drivers go through, waving their thanks. The cunning hutch door had become nothing but a piece of wire netting, tacked to a frame made from four strips of half-by-half; and the rabbits sat on the planks, sniffing and nosing it without talking. After a little while the other two occupants of the hutch, Laurel and Haystack, came hesitantly out and looked about them.

"Where is Hazel-rah?" asked Laurel.

"Not far away," said Blackberry. "He's waiting in the lane."

"What is the lane?"

"The lane?" said Blackberry in surprise. "Surely-"

He stopped as it came over him that these rabbits knew neither lane nor farmyard. They had not the least idea of their most immediate surroundings. He was reflecting on what this meant when Bigwig spoke.

"We mustn't wait about now," he said. "Follow me, all of you."

"But where?" said Boxwood.

"Well, out of here, of course," said Bigwig impatiently. Boxwood looked about him. "I don't know-" he began.

"Well, I do," said Bigwig. "Just come with us. Never mind anything else."

The hutch rabbits looked at each other in bewilderment. It was plain that they were afraid of the great, bristling buck, with his strange shock of fur and his smell of fresh blood. They did not know what to do or understand what was expected of them. They remembered Hazel; they had been excited by the forcing of the door and curious to come through it once it was open. Otherwise, they had no purpose whatever and no means of forming one. They had no more idea of what was involved than a small child who says he will accompany the climbers up the fell.

Blackberry's heart sank. What was to be done with them? Left to themselves, they would hop slowly about the shed and the yard until the cats got them. Of their own accord they could no more run to the hills than fly to the moon. Was there no simple, plain idea that might get them-or some of them-on the move? He turned to Clover.

"I don't suppose you've ever eaten grass by night," he said. "It tastes much better than by day. Let's all go and have some, shall we?"

"Oh, yes," said Clover, "I'd like that. But will it be safe? We're all very much afraid of the cats, you know. They come and stare at us sometimes through the wire and it makes us shiver."

This showed at least the beginnings of sense, thought Blackberry.

"The big rabbit is a match for any cat," he replied. "He nearly killed one on the way here tonight."

"And he doesn't want to fight another if he can help it" said Bigwig briskly. "So if you do want to eat grass by moonlight, let's go to where Hazel-rah's waiting for us."

As Bigwig led the way into the yard, he could make out the shape of the cat that he had beaten, watching from the woodpile. Cat-like, it was fascinated by the rabbits and could not leave them alone, but it evidently had no stomach for another fight and as they crossed the yard it stayed where it was.

The pace was frighteningly slow. Boxwood and Clover seemed to have grasped that there was some sort of urgency and were clearly doing their best to keep up, but, the other two rabbits, once they had hopped into the yard, sat up and looked about them in a foolish manner, completely at a loss. After a good deal of delay, during which the cat left the woodpile and began to move stealthily round toward the side of the shed, Blackberry managed to get them out into the farmyard. But here, finding themselves in an even more open place, they settled into a kind of static panic, like that which sometimes comes upon inexperienced climbers exposed on a sheer face. They could not move, but sat blinking and staring about them in the darkness, taking no notice of Blackberry's coaxing or Bigwig's orders. At this moment a second cat-Hazel's tabby-came round the further end of the farmhouse and made toward them. As it passed the kennel the Labrador woke and sat up, thrusting out its head and shoulders and looking first to one side and then the other. It saw the rabbits, ran to the length of its rope and began to bark.

"Come on!" said Bigwig. "We can't stay here. Up the lane, everybody, and quickly, too." Blackberry, Speedwell and Hawkbit ran at once, taking Boxwood and Clover with them into the darkness under the barn. Dandelion remained beside Haystack, begging her to move and expecting every moment to feel the cat's claws in his back. Bigwig leaped across to him.

"Dandelion," he said in his ear, "get out of it, unless you want to be killed!"

"But the-" began Dandelion.

"Do as I say!" said Bigwig. The noise of barking was fearful and he himself was close to panic. Dandelion hesitated a moment longer. Then he left Haystack and shot up the lane, with Bigwig beside him.

They found the others gathered round Hazel, under the bank. Boxwood and Clover were trembling and seemed exhausted. Hazel was talking to them reassuringly, but broke off as Bigwig appeared out of the dark. The dog stopped barking and there was quiet.

"We're all here," said Bigwig. "Shall we go, Hazel?"

"But there were four hutch rabbits," said Hazel. "Where are the other two?"

"In the farmyard," said Blackberry. "We couldn't do anything with them: and then the dog began to bark."

"Yes, I heard it. You mean they're loose?"

"They'll be a lot looser soon," said Bigwig angrily. "The cats are there."

"Why did you leave them, then?"

"Because they wouldn't move. It was bad enough before the dog started."

"Is the dog tied?" asked Hazel.

"Yes, it's tied. But do you expect any rabbit to stand his ground a few feet from an angry dog?"

"No, of course not," replied Hazel. "You've done wonders, Bigwig. They were just telling me, before you came, that you gave one of the cats such a beating that it was afraid to come back for more. Now look, do you think you and Blackberry, with Speedwell here and Hawkbit, can get these two rabbits back to the warren? I'm afraid you may need most of the night. They can't go very fast and you'll have to be patient with them. Dandelion, you come with me, will you?"

"Where, Hazel-rah?"

"To fetch the other two," said Hazel. "You're the fastest, so it won't be so dangerous for you, will it? Now, don't hang about, Bigwig, there's a good fellow. I'll see you tomorrow."

Before Bigwig could reply he had disappeared under the elms. Dandelion remained where he was, looking at Bigwig uncertainly.

"Are you going to do what he says?" asked Bigwig.

"Well, are you?" said Dandelion.

It took Bigwig no more than a moment to realize that if he said he was not, complete disorganization would follow. He could not take all the others back into the farm, and he could not leave them alone. He muttered something about Hazel being too embleer clever by half, cuffed Hawkbit off a sow thistle he was nibbling and led his five rabbits over the bank into the field. Dandelion, left alone, set off after Hazel into the farmyard.

As he went down the side of the barn, he could hear Hazel out in the open, near the doe Haystack. Neither of the hutch rabbits had moved from where he and Bigwig had left them. The dog had returned to its kennel; but although it was not to be seen, he felt that it was awake and watchful. He came cautiously out of the shadow and approached Hazel.

"I'm just having a chat with Haystack here," said Hazel. "I've been explaining that we've got a little way to go. Do you think you could hop across to Laurel and get him to join us?"

He spoke almost gaily, but Dandelion could see his dilated eyes and the slight trembling of his front paws. He himself was now sensing something peculiar-a kind of luminosity-in the air. There seemed to be a curious vibration somewhere in the distance. He looked round for the cats and saw that, as he feared, both were crouching in front of the farmhouse a little way off. Their reluctance to come closer could be attributed to Bigwig: but they would not go away. Looking across the yard at them, Dandelion felt a sudden clutch of horror.

"Hazel!" he whispered. "The cats! Dear Frith, why are their eyes glittering green like that? Look!"

Hazel sat up quickly and as he did so Dandelion leaped back in real terror, for Hazel's eyes were shining a deep, glowing red in the dark. At that moment the humming vibration grew louder, quenching the rushing of the night breeze in the elms. Then all four rabbits sat as though transfixed by the sudden, blinding light that poured over them like a cloudburst. Their very instinct was numbed in this terrible glare. The dog barked and then became silent once more. Dandelion tried to move, but could not. The awful brightness seemed to cut into his brain.

The car, which had driven up the lane and over the brow under the elms, came on a few more yards and stopped.

"Lucy's rabbits is out, look!"

"Ah! Best get 'un in quick. Leave loights on!"

The sound of men's voices, from somewhere beyond the fierce light, brought Hazel to his senses. He could not see, but nothing, he realized, had happened to his hearing or his nose. He shut his eyes and at once knew where he was.

"Dandelion! Haystack! Shut your eyes and run," he said. A moment later he smelled the lichen and cool moisture of one of the staddle stones. He was under the barn. Dandelion was near him and a little further away was Haystack. Outside, the men's boots scraped and grated over the stones.

"That's it! Get round be'ind 'un."

" 'E won't go far!"

"Pick 'n up, then!"

Hazel moved across to Haystack. "I'm afraid we'll have to leave Laurel," he said. "Just follow me."

Keeping under the raised floor of the barn, they all three scuttled back toward the elm trees. The men's voices were left behind. Coming out into the grass near the lane, they found the darkness behind the headlights full of the fumes of exhaust-a hostile, choking smell that added to their confusion. Haystack sat down once more and could not be persuaded to move.

"Shouldn't we leave her, Hazel-rah?" asked Dandelion. "After all, the men won't hurt her-they've caught Laurel and taken him back to the hutch."

"If it was a buck, I'd say yes," said Hazel. "But we need this doe. That's what we came for."

At this moment they caught the smell of burning white sticks and heard the men returning up the farmyard. There was a metallic bumping as they rummaged in the car. The sound seemed to rouse Haystack. She looked round at Dandelion.

"I don't want to go back to the hutch," she said.

"You're sure?" asked Dandelion.

"Yes. I'll go with you."

Dandelion immediately turned for the hedgerow. It was only when he had crossed it and reached the ditch beyond that he realized that he was on the opposite side of the lane from that on which they had first approached. He was in a strange ditch. However, there seemed to be nothing to worry about-the ditch led down the slope and that was the way home. He moved slowly along it, waiting for Hazel to join them.

Hazel had crossed the lane a few moments after Dandelion and Haystack. Behind him, he heard the men moving away from the hrududu. As he topped the bank, the beam of a torch shone up the lane and picked out his red eyes and white tail disappearing into the hedge.

"There's ol' woild rabbit, look!"

"Ah! Reckon rest of ours ain't s' far off. Got up there with 'un, see? Best go'n 'ave a look."

In the ditch, Hazel overtook Haystack and Dandelion under a clump of brambles.

"Get on quickly if you can," he said to Haystack. "The men are just behind."

"We can't get on, Hazel," said Dandelion, "without leaving the ditch. It's blocked."

Hazel sniffed ahead. Immediately beyond the brambles, the ditch was closed by a pile of earth, weeds and rubbish. They would have to come into the open. Already the men were over the bank and the torchlight was flickering up and down the hedgerow and through the brambles above their very heads. Then, only a few yards away, footfalls vibrated along the edge of the ditch. Hazel turned to Dandelion.

"Listen," he said, "I'm going to run across the corner of the field, from this ditch to the other one, so that they see me. They'll try to shine that light on me for sure. While they're doing that, you and Haystack climb the bank, get into the lane and run down to the swede shed. You can hide there and I'll join you. Ready?"

There was no time to argue. A moment later Hazel broke almost under the men's feet and ran across the field.

"There 'e goes!"

"Keep torch on 'un, then. Noice and steady!"

Dandelion and Haystack scrambled over the bank and dropped into the lane. Hazel, with the torch beam behind him, had almost reached the other ditch when he felt a sharp blow on one of his hind legs and a hot, stinging pain along his side. The report of the cartridge sounded an instant later. As he somersaulted into a clump of nettles in the ditch bottom, he remembered vividly the scent of beanflowers at sunset. He had not known that the men had a gun.

Hazel crawled through the nettles, dragging his injured leg. In a few moments the men would shine their torch on him and pick him up. He stumbled along the inner wall of the ditch, feeling the blood flowing over his foot. Suddenly he was aware of a draft against one side of his nose, a smell of damp, rotten matter and a hollow, echoing sound at his very ear. He was beside the mouth of a land drain which emptied into the ditch-a smooth, cold tunnel, narrower than a rabbit hole, but wide enough. With flattened ears and belly pressed to the wet floor he crawled up it, pushing a little pile of thin mud in front of him, and lay still as he felt the thud of boots coming nearer.

"I don' roightly know, John, whether you 'it 'e er not."

"Ah, I 'it 'un all roight. That's blood down there, see?"

"Ah, well, but that don't signify. 'E might be a long ways off by now. I reckon you've lost 'e."

"I reckon 'e's in them nettles."

" 'Ave a look, then."

"No, 'e ain't."

"Well, us can't go beggarin' up and down 'ere 'alf bloody night. We got to catch them as got out th'utch. Didn't ought 'ave fired be roights, John. Froightened they off, see? You c'n 'ave a look for 'im tomorrow, if 'e's 'ere."

The silence returned, but still Hazel lay motionless in the whispering chill of the tunnel. A cold lassitude came over him and he passed into a dreaming, inert stupor, full of cramp and pain. After a time, a thread of blood began to trickle over the lip of the drain into the trampled, deserted ditch.

Bigwig, crouched close to Blackberry in the straw of the cattle shed, leaped to flight at the sound of the shot two hundred yards up the lane. He checked himself and turned to the others.

"Don't run!" he said quickly. "Where do you want to run to, anyway? No holes here."

"Further away from the gun," replied Blackberry, white-eyed.

"Wait!" said Bigwig, listening. "They're running down the lane. Can't you hear them?"

"I can hear only two rabbits," answered Blackberry, after a pause, "and one of them sounds exhausted."

They looked at each other and waited. Then Bigwig got up again.

"Stay here, all of you," he said. "I'll go and bring them in."

Out on the verge he found Dandelion urging Haystack, who was lamed and spent.

"Come in here quickly," said Bigwig. "For Frith's sake, where's Hazel?"

"The men have shot him," replied Dandelion.

They reached the other five rabbits in the straw. Dandelion did not wait for their questions.

"They've shot Hazel," he said. "They'd caught that Laurel and put him back in the hutch. Then they came after us. The three of us were at the end of a blocked ditch. Hazel went out of his own accord, to distract their attention while we got away. But we didn't know they had a gun."

"Are you sure they killed him?" said Speedwell.

"I didn't actually see him hit, but they were very close to him."

"We'd better wait," said Bigwig.

They waited a long time. At last Dandelion and Bigwig went cautiously back up the lane. They found the bottom of the ditch trampled by boots and streaked with blood, and returned to tell the others.

The journey back, with the three limping hutch rabbits, lasted more than two weary hours. All were dejected and wretched. When at last they reached the foot of the down Bigwig told Blackberry, Speedwell and Hawkbit to leave them and go on to the warren. They approached the wood just at first light and a rabbit ran to meet them through the wet grass. It was Fiver. Blackberry stopped and waited beside him while the other two went on in silence.

"Fiver," he said, "there's bad news. Hazel-"

"I know," replied Fiver. "I know now."

"How do you know?" asked Blackberry, startled.

"As you came through the grass just now," said Fiver, very low, "there was a fourth rabbit behind you, limping and covered with blood. I ran to see who it was, and then there were only three of you, side by side."

He paused and looked across the down, as though still seeking the bleeding rabbit who had vanished in the half-light. Then, as Blackberry said nothing more, he asked, "Do you know what happened?"

When Blackberry had told his news, Fiver returned to the warren and went underground to his empty burrow. A little later Bigwig brought the hutch rabbits up the hill and at once called everyone to meet in the Honeycomb. Fiver did not appear.

It was a dismal welcome for the strangers. Not even Bluebell could find a cheerful word. Dandelion was inconsolable to think that he might have stopped Hazel breaking from the ditch. The meeting came to an end in a dreary silence and a half-hearted silflay.

Later that morning Holly came limping into the warren. Of his three companions, only Silver was alert and unharmed. Buckthorn was wounded in the face and Strawberry was shivering and evidently ill from exhaustion. There were no other rabbits with them.

26. Fiver Beyond

Fiver lay on the earth floor of the burrow. Outside, the downs were still in the intense, bright heat of noon. The dew and gossamer had dried early from the grass and by midmorning the finches had fallen silent. Now, along the lonely expanses of wiry turf, the air wavered. On the footpath that led past the warren, bright threads of light-watery, a mirage-trickled and glittered across the shortest, smoothest grass. From a distance the trees along the edge of the beech hanger appeared full of great, dense shadows, impenetrable to the dazzled eye. The only sound was the "Zip, zip" of the grasshoppers, the only scent that of the warm thyme.

In the burrow, Fiver slept and woke uneasily through the heat of the day, fidgeting and scratching as the last traces of moisture dried out of the earth above him. Once, when a trickle of powdery soil fell from the roof, he leaped out of sleep and was in the mouth of the run before he came to himself and returned to where he had been lying. Each time he woke, he remembered the loss of Hazel and suffered once more the knowledge that had pierced him as the shadowy, limping rabbit disappeared in the first light of morning on the down. Where was that rabbit now? Where had it gone? He began to follow it among the tangled paths of his own thoughts, over the cold, dew-wet ridge and down into the dawn mist of the fields below.

The mist swirled round Fiver as he crept through thistles and nettles. Now he could no longer see the limping rabbit ahead. He was alone and afraid, yet perceiving old, familiar sounds and smells-those of the field where he was born. The thick weeds of summer were gone. He was under the bare ash boughs and the flowering blackthorn of March. He was crossing the brook, going up the slope toward the lane, toward the place where Hazel and he had come upon the notice board. Would the board still be there? He looked timidly up the slope. The view was blotted with mist, but as he neared the top he saw a man busy over a pile of tools-a spade, a rope and other, smaller implements, the use of which he did not know. The notice board lay flat on the ground. It was smaller than he remembered and fixed to a single, long, square post, sharpened at the further end to put into the earth. The surface of the board was white, just as he had seen it before, and covered with the sharp black lines like sticks. Fiver came hesitantly up the slope and stopped close to the man, who stood looking down into a deep, narrow hole sunk in the ground at his feet. The man turned to Fiver with the kind of amiability that an ogre might show to a victim whom they both know that he will kill and eat as soon as it suits him to do so.

"Ah! An' what am I doin', eh?" asked the man.

"What are you doing?" answered Fiver, staring and twitching with fear.

"I'm just putt'n up this 'ere ol' board," said the man. "And I s'pose you wants t' know what for, eh?"

"Yes," whispered Fiver.

"It's fer that there old 'Azel," said the man. "On'y where 't'is, see, we got t' put up a bit of a notice, like, on 'is account. And what d'you reckon it says, eh?"

"I don't know," said Fiver. "How-how can a board say anything?"

"Ah, but it do, see?" replied the man. "That's where we knows what you don't. That's why we kills you when we 'as a mind to. Now, you wants take a good look at that there board and then very likely you'll know more 'n what you knows now."

In the livid, foggy twilight, Fiver stared at the board. As he stared, the black sticks flickered on the white surface. They raised their sharp, wedge-shaped little heads and chattered together like a nestful of young weasels. The sound, mocking and cruel, came faintly to his ears, as though muffled by sand or sacking. "In memory of Hazel-rah! In memory of Hazel-rah! In memory of Hazel-rah! Ha ha ha ha ha ha!"

"Well, that's where 't'is, see?" said the man. "And I've got t'ang 'im up on this 'ere board. That's t' say, soon's I gets it stood up proper. Same as you'd 'ang up jay, like, or old stoat. Ah! Gon' 'ang 'im up."

"No!" cried Fiver. "No, you shan't!"

"On'y I ain't got 'im, see?" went on the man. "That's why I can't get done. I can't 'ang 'im up, 'cos 'e've gone down th' bloody 'ole, that's where 'e've gone. 'E've gone down th' bloody 'ole, just when I'd got 'n lined an' all, and I can't get 'n out."

Fiver crept up to the man's boots and peered into the hole. It was circular, a cylinder of baked earthenware that disappeared vertically into the ground. He called, "Hazel! Hazel!" Far down in the bole, something moved and he was about to call again. Then the man bent down and hit him between the ears.

Fiver was struggling in a thick cloud of earth, soft and powdery. Someone was saying, "Steady, Fiver, steady!" He sat up. There was soil in his eyes, his ears and nostrils. He could not smell. He shook himself and said, "Who is it?"

"It's Blackberry. I came to see how you were. It's all right; a bit of the roof's fallen, that's all. There've been falls all over the warren today-it's the heat. Anyway, it woke you from a nightmare, if I know anything. You were thrashing about and calling out for Hazel. You poor old chap! What a miserable thing it is to have happened! We must try to bear it as best we can. We've all got to stop running one day, you know. They say Frith knows all the rabbits, every one."

"Is it evening?" asked Fiver.

"Not yet, no. But it's a fair time after ni-Frith. Holly and the others have come back, you know. Strawberry's very ill and they haven't any does with them-not one. Everything's as bad as it could be. Holly's still asleep-he was completely exhausted. He said he'd tell us what happened this evening. When we told him about poor Hazel, he said-Fiver, you're not listening. I expect you'd rather I kept quiet."

"Blackberry," said Fiver, "do you know the place where Hazel was shot?"

"Yes, Bigwig and I went and looked at the ditch before we came away. But you mustn't-"

"Could you go there with me now?"

"Go back there? Oh, no. It's a long way, Fiver, and what would be the good? The risk, and this fearful heat, and you'd only make yourself wretched."

"Hazel isn't dead," said Fiver.

"Yes, the men took him away. Fiver, I saw the blood."

"Yes, but you didn't see Hazel, because he isn't dead. Blackberry, you must do what I ask."

"You're asking too much."

"Then I shall have to go alone. But what I'm asking you to do is to come and save Hazel's life."

When at last Blackberry had reluctantly given in and they had set out down the hill, Fiver went almost as fast as though he were running for cover. Again and again he urged Blackberry to make haste. The fields were empty in the glare. Every creature bigger than a bluebottle was sheltering from the heat. When they reached the outlying sheds beside the lane, Blackberry began to explain how he and Bigwig had gone back to search; but Fiver cut him short.

"We have to go up the slope, I know that: but you must show me the ditch."

The elms were still. There was not the least sound in the leaves. The ditch was thick with cow parsley, hemlock and long trails of green-flowering bryony. Blackberry led the way to the trampled patch of nettles and Fiver sat still among them, sniffing and looking about him in the silence. Blackberry watched him disconsolately. A faint breath of wind stole across the fields and a blackbird began to sing from somewhere beyond the elms. At last Fiver began to move along the bottom of the ditch. The insects buzzed round his ears and suddenly a little cloud of flies flew up, disturbed from a projecting stone. No, not a stone. It was smooth and regular-a circular lip of earthenware. The brown mouth of a drain, stained black at the lower edge by a thin, dried thread of blood: of rabbit's blood.

"The bloody hole!" whispered Fiver. "The bloody hole!"

He peered into the dark opening. It was blocked. Blocked by a rabbit. That was plain to be smelled. A rabbit whose faint pulse could just be heard, magnified in the confined tunnel.

"Hazel?" said Fiver.

Blackberry was beside him at once. "What is it, Fiver?"

"Hazel's in that hole," said Fiver, "and he's alive."

27. "You Can't Imagine It Unless You've Been There"

In the Honeycomb, Bigwig and Holly were waiting to begin the second meeting since the loss of Hazel. As the air began to cool, the rabbits woke and first one and then another came down the runs that led from the smaller burrows. All were subdued and doubtful at heart. Like the pain of a bad wound, the effect of a deep shock takes some while to be felt. When a child is told, for the first time in his life, that a person he has known is dead, although he does not disbelieve it, he may well fail to comprehend it and later ask-perhaps more than once-where the dead person is and when he is coming back. When Pipkin had planted in himself, like some somber tree, the knowledge that Hazel would never return, his bewilderment exceeded his grief: and this bewilderment he saw on every side among his companions. Faced with no crisis of action and with nothing to prevent them from continuing their life in the warren as before, the rabbits were nevertheless overcome by the conviction that their luck was gone. Hazel was dead and Holly's expedition had totally failed. What would follow?

Holly, gaunt, his staring pelt full of goose grass and fragments of burdock, was talking with the three hutch rabbits and reassuring them as best he could. No one could say now that Hazel had thrown away his life in a foolhardy prank. The two does were the only gain that anyone had made-the warren's only asset. But they were plainly so ill at ease in their new surroundings that Holly was already contending against his own belief that there was little to be hoped for from them. Does who are upset and on edge tend to be infertile; and how were these does to make themselves at home in strange conditions and a place where everyone was lost so poorly in his thoughts? They would die, perhaps, or wander away. He buckled once more to the task of explaining that he was sure better times lay ahead-and as he did so, felt himself the least convinced of any.

Bigwig had sent Acorn to see whether there was anyone still to come. Acorn returned to say that Strawberry felt too ill and that he could find neither Blackberry nor Fiver.

"Well, leave Fiver," said Bigwig. "Poor fellow, he'll feel better by himself for a time, I dare say."

"He's not in his burrow, though," said Acorn.

"Never mind," said Bigwig. But the thought came to him, "Fiver and Blackberry? Could they have left the warren without telling anyone? If they have, what will happen when the others get to know?" Should he ask Kehaar to go and look for them while there was still light? But if Kehaar found them, what then? They could not be compelled to return. Or if they were, what good would that do, if they wanted to be gone? At that moment Holly began to speak and everyone became quiet.

"We all know we're in a mess," said Holly, "and I suppose before long we shall have to talk about what's best to be done. But I thought that first of all I ought to tell you how it is that we four-Silver, Buckthorn, Strawberry and I-have come back without any does. You don't have to remind me that when we set out, everyone thought it was going to be straightforward. And here we are, one rabbit sick, one wounded and nothing to show for it. You're all wondering why."

"No one's blaming you, Holly," said Bigwig.

"I don't know whether I'm to blame or not," replied Holly. "But you'll tell me that when you've heard the story.

"That morning when we left, it was good weather for hlessil on the move and we all felt there was no hurry. It was cool, I remember, and looked as if it would be some time before the day got really bright and cloudless. There's a farm not far away from the other end of this wood, and although there were no men about so early, I didn't fancy going that way, so we kept up on high ground on the evening side. We were all expecting to come to the edge of the down, but there isn't any steep edge as there is on the north. The upland just goes on and on, open, dry and lonely. There's plenty of cover for rabbits-standing corn, hedges and banks-but no real woodland: just great, open fields of light soil with big white flintstones. I was hoping that we might find ourselves in the sort of country we used to know-meadows and woods-but we didn't. Anyhow, we found a track with a good, thick hedge along one side and we decided to follow that. We took it easy and stopped a good deal, because I was taking care to avoid running into elil. I'm sure it's bad country for stoats as well as foxes, and I hadn't much idea what we were going to do if we met one."

"I'm pretty certain we did pass close to a weasel," said Silver. "I could smell it. But you know how it is with elil-if they're not actually hunting, they often take no notice of you. We left very little scent, and buried our hraka as though we were cats."

"Well, before ni-Frith," went on Holly, "the track brought us to a long, thin wood running right across the way we were going. These downland woods are queer, aren't they? This was no thicker than the one above us now, but it stretched as far as we could see either way, in a dead straight line. I don't like straight lines: men make them. And sure enough, we found a road beside this wood. It was a very lonely, empty road, but all the same I didn't want to hang about there, so we went straight through the wood and out the other side. Kehaar spotted us in the fields beyond and told us to alter our direction. I asked him how we were getting on and he said we were about halfway, so I thought we might as well start looking for somewhere to lie up for the night. I didn't fancy the open, and in the end we made scrapes in the bottom of a kind of little pit we found. Then we had a good feed and passed the night very well.

"I don't think we need tell you everything about the journey. It came on to rain just after the morning feed and there was a nasty, cold wind with it, so we stayed where we were until after ni-Frith. It brightened up then and we went on. The going wasn't very nice because of the wet, but by early evening I reckoned we ought to be near the place. I was looking round when a hare came through the grass and I asked him whether he knew of a big warren close by.

" Efrafa? he asked. 'Are you going to Efrafa?[11]

" 'If that's what it's called, I answered.

" 'Do you know it?

" 'No, I said, 'we don't. We want to know where it is.

" 'Well, he said, 'my advice to you is to run, and quickly.

"I was just wondering what to make of that, when suddenly three big rabbits came over the bank, just the way I did that night when I came to arrest you, Bigwig: and one of them said, 'Can I see your marks?

" 'Marks? I said. 'What marks? I don't understand.

" 'You're not from Efrafa?

" 'No, I said, 'we're going there. We're strangers.

" 'Will you come with me? No 'Have you come far? or 'Are you wet through? or anything like that.

"So then these three rabbits took us off down the bank and that was how we came to Efrafa, as they call it. And I'd better try and tell you something about it, so that you'll know what a dirty little bunch of sniveling hedge-scrapers we are here.

"Efrafa is a big warren-a good deal bigger than the one we came from-the Threarah's, I mean. And the one fear of every rabbit in it is that men are going to find them and infect them with the white blindness. The whole warren is organized to conceal its existence. The holes are all hidden and the Owsla have every rabbit in the place under orders. You can't call your life your own: and in return you have safety-if it's worth having at the price you pay.

"As well as the Owsla, they have what they call a Council, and each of the Council rabbits has some special thing he looks after. One looks after feeding; another's responsible for the ways in which they keep hidden; another looks after breeding, and so on. As far as the ordinary rabbits are concerned, only a certain number can be above ground at one time. Every rabbit is marked when he's a kitten: they bite them, deep, and under the chin or in a haunch or forepaw. Then they can be told by the scar for the rest of their lives. You mustn't be found above ground unless it's the right time of day for your Mark."

"Who's to stop you?" growled Bigwig.

"That's the really frightening part. The Owsla-well, you can't imagine it unless you've been there. The Chief is a rabbit named Woundwort: General Woundwort, they call him. I'll tell you more about him in a minute. Then under him there are captains-each one in charge of a Mark-and each captain has his own officers and sentries. There's a Mark captain with his band on duty at every time of the day and night. If a man happens to come anywhere near, which isn't often, the sentries give warning long before he comes close enough to see anything. They give warning of elil, too. They prevent anyone dropping hraka except in special places in the ditches, where it's buried. And if they see any rabbit above ground whom they don't recognize as having the right to be there, they ask to see his mark. Frith knows what happens if he can't explain himself-but I can guess pretty well. Rabbits in Efrafa quite often go days at a time without the sight of Frith. If their Mark's on night silflay, then they feed by night, wet or fine, warm or cold. They're all used to talking, playing and mating in the burrows underground. If a Mark can't silflay at their appointed time for some reason or other-say there was a man working somewhere near-that's just too bad. They miss their turn till next day."

"But surely it alters them very much, living like that?" asked Dandelion.

"Very much indeed," replied Holly. "Most of them can't do anything but what they're told. They've never been out of Efrafa and never smelled an enemy. The one aim of every rabbit in Efrafa is to get into the Owsla, because of the privileges: and the one aim of everyone in the Owsla is to get into the Council. The Council have the best of everything. But the Owsla have to keep very strong and tough. They take it in turn to do what they call Wide Patrol. They go out over the country-all round the place-living in the open for days at a time. It's partly to find out anything they can, and partly to train them and make them tough and cunning. Any hlessil they find they pick up and bring back to Efrafa. If they won't come, they kill them. They reckon hlessil a danger, because they may attract the attention of men. The Wide Patrols report back to General Woundwort, and the Council decide what to do about anything new that they think may be dangerous."

"They missed you on the way in, then?" said Bluebell.

"Oh, no, they didn't! We learned later that some time after we'd been brought in by this rabbit-Captain Campion-a runner arrived from a Wide Patrol to say that they'd picked up the track of three or four rabbits coming toward Efrafa from the north, and were there any orders? He was sent back to say that we were safely under control.

"Anyway, this Captain Campion took us down to a hole in the ditch. The mouth of the hole was a bit of old earthenware pipe and if a man had pulled it out, the opening would have fallen in and showed no trace of the run inside. And there he handed us over to another captain-because he had to go back above ground for the rest of his spell of duty, you see. We were taken to a big burrow and told to make ourselves at home.

"There were other rabbits in the burrow and it was by listening to them and asking questions that I learned most of what I've been telling you. We got talking to some of the does and I made friends with one called Hyzenthlay.[12] I told her about our problem here and why we'd come, and then she told us about Efrafa. When she'd finished I said, 'It sounds terrible. Has it always been like this? She said no, her mother had told her that in years gone by the warren had been elsewhere and much smaller, but when General Woundwort came, he had made them move to Efrafa and then he'd worked out this whole system of concealment and perfected it until rabbits in Efrafa were as safe as stars in the sky. 'Most rabbits here die of old age, unless the Owsla kill them off, she said. 'But the trouble is, there are more rabbits now than the warren can hold. Any fresh digging that's allowed has to be done under Owsla supervision and they do it terribly slowly and carefully. It all has to be hidden, you see. We're overcrowded and a lot of rabbits don't get above ground as much as they need to. And for some reason there are not enough bucks and too many does. A lot of us have found we can't produce litters, because of the overcrowding, but no one is ever allowed to leave. Only a few days ago, several of us does went to the Council and asked whether we could form an expedition to start a new warren somewhere else. We said we'd go far, far away-as far away as they liked. But they wouldn't hear of it-not on any account. Things can't go on like this-the system's breaking down. But it doesn't do to be heard talking about it.

"Well, I thought, this sounds hopeful. Surely they won't object to our proposals? We only want to take a few does and no bucks. They've got more does than there's room for and we want to take them further away than anyone here can ever have been.

"A little later another captain came and said we were to come with him to the Council meeting.

"The Council meet in a kind of big burrow. It's long and rather narrow-not as good as this Honeycomb of ours, because they've got no tree roots to make a wide roof. We had to wait outside while they were talking about all sorts of other things. We were just one piece of daily Council business: 'Strangers apprehended. There was another rabbit waiting and he was under special guard-Owslafa, they call them: the Council police. I've never been near anyone so frightened in my life-I thought he'd go mad with fear. I asked one of these Owslafa what was the matter and he said that this rabbit, Blackavar, had been caught trying to run away from the warren. Well, they took him inside and first of all we heard the poor fellow trying to explain himself, and then he was crying and begging for mercy: and when he came out they'd ripped both his ears to shreds, worse than this one of mine. We were all sniffing at him, absolutely horror-stricken; but one of the Owslafa said, 'You needn't make such a fuss. He's lucky to be alive. So while we were chewing on that, someone came out and said the Council were ready for us.

"As soon as we got in, we were put up in front of this General Woundwort, and he really is a grim customer. I don't think even you'd match up to him, Bigwig. He's almost as big as a hare and there's something about his mere presence that frightens you, as if blood and fighting and killing were all just part of the day's work to him. I thought he'd begin by asking us some questions about who we were and what we wanted, but he didn't do anything like that. He said, 'I'm going to explain the rules of the warren and the conditions on which you'll live here. You must listen carefully, because the rules are to be kept and any breaking of them will be punished. So then I spoke up at once and said that there was a misunderstanding. We were an embassy, I said, come from another warren to ask for Efrafa's goodwill and help. And I went on to explain that all we wanted was their agreement to our persuading a few does to come back with us. When I'd finished, General Woundwort said that it was out of the question: there was nothing to discuss. I replied that we'd like to stay with them for a day or two and try to persuade them to change their mind.

" 'Oh, yes, he said, 'you'll stay. But there'll be no further occasion for you to take up the Council's time-for the next few days at any rate.

"I said that seemed very hard. Our request was surely a reasonable one. And I was just going to ask them to consider one or two things from our point of view, when another of the Councillors-a very old rabbit-said, 'You seem to think you're here to argue with us and drive a bargain. But we're the ones to say what you're going to do.

"I said they should remember that we were representing another warren, even if it was smaller than theirs. We thought of ourselves as their guests. And it was only when I'd said that that I realized with a horrible shock that they thought of us as their prisoners: or as good as prisoners, whatever they might call it.

"Well, I'd rather say no more about the end of that meeting. Strawberry tried all he could to help me. He spoke very well about the decency and comradeship natural to animals. 'Animals don't behave like men, he said. 'If they have to fight, they fight; and if they have to kill they kill. But they don't sit down and set their wits to work to devise ways of spoiling other creatures' lives and hurting them. They have dignity and animality.

"But it was all no use. At last we fell silent and General Woundwort said, 'The Council can't spare any more time for you now, and I shall have to leave it to your Mark captain to tell you the rules. You'll join the Right Flank Mark under Captain Bugloss. Later, we shall see you again and you'll find us perfectly friendly and helpful to rabbits who understand what's expected of them.

"So then the Owsla took us out to join the Right Flank Mark. Apparently Captain Bugloss was too busy to see us and I took care to keep out of his way, because I thought he might want to start marking us then and there. But soon I began to understand what Hyzenthlay had meant when she said the system wasn't working properly any more. The burrows were overcrowded-at least by our standards. It was easy to escape attention. Even in one Mark the rabbits don't all know each other. We found places in a burrow and tried to get some sleep, but early in the night we were woken and told to silflay. I thought there might be a chance to run for it in the moonlight, but there seemed to be sentries everywhere. And besides the sentries, the Captain kept two runners with him, whose job was to rush off at once in any direction from which an alarm might be given.

"When we'd fed we went underground again. Nearly all the rabbits were very subdued and docile. We avoided them, because we meant to escape if we could and we didn't want to get known. But try as I would, I couldn't think of a plan.

"We fed again some time before ni-Frith the next day, and then it was back underground. The time dragged terribly. At last-it must have been as evening was coming on-I joined a little group of rabbits listening to a story. And do you know, it was 'The King's Lettuce'? The rabbit who was telling it was nowhere near as good as Dandelion, but I listened all the same, just for something to do. And it was when he got to the bit where El-ahrairah dresses up and pretends to be the doctor at King Darzin's palace that I suddenly had an idea. It was a very risky one, but I thought there was a chance that it might work, simply because every rabbit in Efrafa usually does what he's told without question. I'd been watching Captain Bugloss and he struck me as a nice enough fellow, conscientious and a bit weak and rather harassed by having more to do than he could really cope with.

"That night, when we were called to silflay, it was pitch dark and raining; but you don't bother about a little thing like that in Efrafa-you're only too glad to get out and get some food. All the rabbits trooped up; and we waited until the very last. Captain Bugloss was out on the bank, with two of his sentries. Silver and the others went out in front of me and then I came up to him panting as if I'd been running.

" 'Captain Bugloss?

" 'Yes? he said. 'What is it?

" 'You're wanted by the Council, at once.

" 'Why, what do you mean? he asked. 'What for?

" 'No doubt they'll tell you that when they see you, I answered. 'I shouldn't keep them waiting if I were you.

" 'Who are you? he said. 'You're not one of the Council runners. I know them all. What Mark are you?

" 'I'm not here to answer your questions, I said. 'Shall I go back and tell them you won't come?

"He looked doubtful at that and I made as if I were going. But then, all of a sudden, he said, 'Very well'-he looked awfully frightened, poor fellow-'but who's to take over here while I'm gone?

" 'I am, I said. 'General Woundwort's orders. But come back quickly. I don't want to hang about half the night doing your job. He scuttled off. I turned to the other two and said, 'Stay here, and look alive, too. I'm going round the sentries.

"Well, then the four of us ran off into the dark and, sure enough, after we'd gone a little way two sentries popped up and tried to stop us. We all piled straight into them. I thought they'd run, but they didn't. They fought like mad and one of them tore Buckthorn all down the nose. But of course there were four of us; and in the end we broke past them and simply tore across the field. We had no idea which way we were going, what with the rain and the night: we just ran. I think the reason why the pursuit was a bit slow off the mark was because poor old Bugloss wasn't there to give the orders. Anyway, we had a fair start. But presently we could hear that we were being followed-and, what was worse, we were being overtaken.

"The Efrafan Owsla are no joke, believe me. They're all picked for size and strength and there's nothing they don't know about moving in wet and darkness. They're all so much afraid of the Council that they're not afraid of anything else. It wasn't long before I knew we were in trouble. The patrol that was after us could actually follow us in the dark and rain faster than we could run away, and before long they were close behind. I was just going to tell the others that there was nothing for it but to turn and fight when we came to a great, steep bank that seemed to slope almost straight up into the air. It was steeper than this hillside below us here, and the slope seemed to be regular, as if men had made it.

"Well, there was no time to think about it, so up we went. It was covered with rough grass and bushes. I don't know how far it was to the top exactly, but I should guess it was as high as a well-grown rowan tree-perhaps a bit higher. When we got to the top we found ourselves on small, light stones that shifted as we ran on them. That gave us away completely. Then we came upon broad, flat pieces of wood and two great, fixed bars of metal that made a noise-a kind of low, humming noise in the dark. I was just saying to myself, 'This is men's work, all right, when I fell over the other side. I hadn't realized that the whole top of the bank was only a very short distance across and the other side was just as steep. I went head over heels down the bank in the dark and fetched up against an elder bush-and there I lay."

Holly stopped and fell silent, as though pondering on what he remembered. At last he said,

"It's going to be very hard to describe to you what happened next. Although all four of us were there, we don't understand it ourselves. But what I'm going to say now is the cold truth. Lord Frith sent one of his great Messengers to save us from the Efrafan Owsla. Each one of us had fallen over the edge of the bank in one place or another. Buckthorn, who was half blinded with his own blood, went down almost to the bottom. I'd picked myself up and was looking back at the top. There was just enough light in the sky to see the Efrafans if they came over. And then-then an enormous thing-I can't give you any idea of it-as big as a thousand hrududil-bigger-came rushing out of the night. It was full of fire and smoke and light and it roared and beat on the metal lines until the ground shook beneath it. It drove in between us and the Efrafans like a thousand thunderstorms with lightning. I tell you, I was beyond being afraid. I couldn't move. The flashing and the noise-they split the whole night apart. I don't know what happened to the Efrafans: either they ran away or it cut them down. And then suddenly it was gone and we heard it disappearing, rattle and bang, rattle and bang, far away in the distance. We were completely alone.

"For a long time I couldn't move. At last I got up and found the others, one by one, in the dark. None of us said a word. At the bottom of the slope we discovered a kind of tunnel that went right through the bank from one side to the other. We crept into it and came out on the side where we'd gone up. Then we went a long way through the fields, until I reckoned we must be well clear of Efrafa. We crawled into a ditch and slept there, all four of us, until morning. There was no reason why anything shouldn't have come and killed us, and yet we knew we were safe. You may think it's a wonderful thing to be saved by Lord Frith in his power. How many rabbits has that happened to, I wonder? But I tell you, it was far more frightening than being chased by the Efrafans. Not one of us will forget lying on that bank in the rain while the fire creature went by above our heads. Why did it come on our account? That's more than we shall ever know.

"The next morning I cast around a bit and soon I knew which was the right direction. You know how you always do. The rain had stopped and we set out. But it was a very hard journey back. We were exhausted long before the end-all except Silver: I don't know what we'd have done without him. We went on for a day and a night without any real rest at all. We all felt that the only thing we wanted to do was to get back here as soon as we could. When I reached the wood this morning I was just limping along in a bad dream. I'm not really much better than poor old Strawberry, I'm afraid. He never complained, but he'll need a long rest and I rather think I shall, too. And Buckthorn-that's the second bad wound he's had. But that's not the worst now, is it? We've lost Hazel: the worst thing that could have happened. Some of you asked me earlier this evening if I would be Chief Rabbit. I'm glad to know you trust me, but I'm completely done in and I can't possibly take it on yet. I feel as dry and empty as an autumn puffball-I feel as though the wind could blow my fur away."

28. At the Foot of the Hill

"You're not too tired to silflay, are you?" asked Dandelion. "And at the proper time of day, for a change? It's a lovely evening, if my nose says right. We ought to try not to be more miserable than we can help, you know."

"Just before we silflay," said Bigwig, "can I tell you, Holly, that I don't believe anyone else could have brought himself and three other rabbits safely back out of a place like that?"

"Frith meant us to get back," replied Holly. "That's the real reason why we're here."

As he turned to follow Speedwell up the run that led into the wood, he found Clover beside him. "You and your friends must find it strange to go outside and eat grass," he said. "You'll get used to it, you know. And I can promise you that Hazel-rah was right when he told you it's a better life here than in a hutch. Come with me and I'll show you a patch of nice, short tail-grass, if Bigwig hasn't had it all while I've been away."

Holly had taken to Clover. She seemed more robust and less timid than Boxwood and Haystack and was evidently doing her best to adapt herself to warren life. What her stock might be he could not tell, but she looked healthy.

"I like it underground all right," said Clover, as they came up into the fresh air. "The closed space is really very much like a hutch, except that it's darker. The difficult thing for us is going to be feeding in the open. We're not used to being free to go where we like and we don't know what to do. You all act so quickly and half the time I don't know why. I'd prefer not to feed very far from the hole, if you don't mind."

They moved slowly across the sunset grass, nibbling as they went: Clover was soon absorbed in feeding, but Holly stopped continually to sit up and sniff about him at the peaceful, empty down. When he noticed Bigwig, a little way off, staring fixedly to the north, he at once followed his gaze.

"What is it?" he asked.

"It's Blackberry," replied Bigwig. He sounded relieved.

Blackberry came hopping rather slowly down from the skyline. He looked tired out, but as soon as he saw the other rabbits he came on faster and made his way to Bigwig.

"Where have you been?" asked Bigwig. "And where's Fiver? Wasn't he with you?"

"Fiver's with Hazel," said Blackberry. "Hazel's alive. He's been wounded-it's hard to tell how badly-but he won't die."

The other three rabbits looked at him speechlessly. Blackberry waited, enjoying the effect.

"Hazel's alive?" said Bigwig. "Are you sure?"

"Quite sure," said Blackberry. "He's at the foot of the hill at this very moment, in that ditch where you were the night Holly and Bluebell arrived."

"I can hardly believe it," said Holly. "If it's true, it's the best news I've ever heard in my life. Blackberry, you really are sure? What happened? Tell us."

"Fiver found him," said Blackberry. "Fiver took me with him, nearly all the way back to the farm: then he went along the ditch and found Hazel gone to ground up a land drain. He was very weak from loss of blood and he couldn't get out of the drain by himself. We had to drag him by his good hind leg. He couldn't turn round, you see."

"But how on earth did Fiver know?"

"How does Fiver know what he knows? You'd better ask him. When we'd got Hazel into the ditch, Fiver looked to see how badly he was hurt. He's got a nasty wound in one hind leg, but the bone isn't broken: and he's torn all along one side. We cleaned up the places as well as we could and then we started out to bring him back. It's taken us the whole evening. Can you imagine it-daylight, dead silence and a lame rabbit reeking of fresh blood? Luckily, it's been the hottest day we've had this summer-not a mouse stirring. Time and again we had to take cover in the cow parsley and rest. I was all on the jump, but Fiver was like a butterfly on a stone. He sat in the grass and combed his ears. 'Don't get upset, he kept saying. 'There's nothing to worry about. We can take our time. After what I'd seen, I'd have believed him if he'd said we could hunt foxes. But when we got to the bottom of the hill Hazel was completely finished and he couldn't go any further. He and Fiver have taken shelter in the overgrown ditch and I came on to tell you. And here I am."

There was silence while Bigwig and Holly took in the news. At last Bigwig said, "Will they stay there tonight?"

"I think so," replied Blackberry. "I'm sure Hazel won't be able to manage the hill until he's a good deal stronger."

"I'll go down there," said Bigwig. "I can help to make the ditch a bit more comfortable, and probably Fiver will be able to do with someone else to help to look after Hazel"

"I should hurry, then, if I were you," said Blackberry. "The sun will be down soon."

"Hah!" said Bigwig, "If I meet a stoat, it'd better look out, that's all. I'll bring you one back tomorrow, shall I?" He raced off and disappeared over the edge.

"Let's go and get the others together," said Holly. "Come on, Blackberry, you'll have to tell the whole thing, from the beginning."

The three quarters of a mile in the blazing heat, from Nuthanger to the foot of the hill, had cost Hazel more pain and effort than anything in his life. If Fiver had not found him, he would have died in the drain. When Fiver's urging had penetrated his dark, ebbing stupor, he had at first actually tried not to respond. It was so much easier to remain where he was, on the far side of the suffering he had undergone. Later, when he found himself lying in the green gloom of the ditch, with Fiver searching his wounds and assuring him that he could stand and move, still he could not face the idea of setting out to return. His torn side throbbed and the pain in his leg seemed to have affected his senses. He felt dizzy and could not hear or smell properly. At last, when he understood that Fiver and Blackberry had risked a second journey to the farm, in the broadest of daylight, solely to find him and save his life, he forced himself to his feet and began to stumble down the slope to the road. His sight was swimming and he had to stop again and again. Without Fiver's encouragement he would have lain down once more and given up. In the road, he could not climb the bank and had to limp along the verge until he could crawl under a gate. Much later, as they came under the pylon line, he remembered the overgrown ditch at the foot of the hill and set himself to reach it. Once there, he lay down and at once returned to the sleep of total exhaustion.

When Bigwig arrived, just before dark, he found Fiver snatching a quick feed in the long grass. It was out of the question to disturb Hazel by digging, and they spent the night crouched beside him on the narrow floor.

Coming out in the gray light before dawn, the first creature Bigwig saw was Kehaar, foraging between the elders. He stamped to attract his attention and Kehaar sailed across to him with one beat of his wings and a long glide.

"Meester Pigvig, you find Meester 'Azel?"

"Yes," said Bigwig, "he's in the ditch here."

" 'E not dead?"

"No, but he's wounded and very weak. The farm man shot him with a gun, you know."

"You get black stones out?"

"How do you mean?"

"Alvays vid gun ees coming liddle black stones. You never see?"

"No, I don't know about guns."

"Take out black stones, 'e get better. 'E come now, ya?"

"I'll see," said Bigwig. He went down to Hazel and found him awake and talking to Fiver. When Bigwig told him that Kehaar was outside he dragged himself up the short run and into the grass.

"Dis damn gun," said Kehaar. "'E put liddle stones for 'urt you. I look, ya?"

"I suppose you'd better," said Hazel. "My leg's still very bad, I'm afraid."

He lay down and Kehaar's head flicked from side to side as though he were looking for snails in Hazel's brown fur. He peered closely up the length of the torn flank.

"Ees not stones 'ere," he said. "Go in, go out-no stop. Now I see you leg. Maybe 'urt you, not long."

Two shotgun pellets were buried in the muscle of the haunch. Kehaar detected them by smell and removed them exactly as he might have picked spiders out of a crack. Hazel had barely time to flinch before Bigwig was sniffing at the pellets in the grass.

"Now ees more bleed," said Kehaar. "You stay, vait maybe vun, two day. Den goot like before. Dose rabbits up dere, all vait, vait for Meester 'Azel. I tell dem 'e come." He flew off before they could reply.

As things turned out, Hazel stayed three days at the foot of the hill. The hot weather continued and for much of the time he sat under the elder branches, dozing above ground like some solitary hlessi and feeling his strength returning. Fiver stayed with him, keeping the wounds clean and watching his recovery. Often they would say nothing for hours together, lying in the rough, warm grass while the shadows moved to evening, until at last the local blackbird cocked its tail and tuck-tucked away to roost. Neither spoke of Nuthanger Farm, but Hazel showed plainly enough that for the future Fiver, when he gave advice, would have no hard task to get him to accept it.

"Hrairoo," said Hazel one evening, "what would we have done without you? We'd none of us be here, would we?"

"You're sure we are here, then?" asked Fiver.

"That's too mysterious for me," replied Hazel. "What do you mean?"

"Well, there's another place-another country, isn't there? We go there when we sleep; at other times, too; and when we die. El-ahrairah comes and goes between the two as he wants, I suppose, but I could never quite make that out, from the tales. Some rabbits will tell you it's all easy there, compared with the waking dangers that they understand. But I think that only shows they don't know much about it. It's a wild place, and very unsafe. And where are we really-there or here?"

"Our bodies stay here-that's good enough for me. You'd better go and talk to that Silverweed fellow-he might know more."

"Oh, you remember him? I felt that when we were listening to him, you know. He terrified me and yet I knew that I understood him better than anyone else in that place. He knew where he belonged, and it wasn't here. Poor fellow, I'm sure he's dead. They'd got him, all right-the ones in that country. They don't give their secrets away for nothing, you know. But look! Here come Holly and Blackberry, so we'd better feel sure we're here just for the moment, anyway."

Holly had already come down the hill on the previous day to see Hazel and tell again the story of his escape from Efrafa. When he had spoken of his deliverance by the great apparition in the night, Fiver had listened attentively and asked one question, "Did it make a noise?" Later, when Holly had gone back, he told Hazel that he felt sure there was some natural explanation, though he had no idea what it could be. Hazel, however, had not been greatly interested. For him, the important thing was their disappointment and the reason for it. Holly had achieved nothing and this was entirely due to the unexpected unfriendliness of the Efrafan rabbits. This evening, as soon as they had begun to feed, Hazel returned to the matter.

"Holly," he said, "we're hardly any nearer to solving our problem, are we? You've done wonders and got nothing to show for it, and the Nuthanger raid was only a silly lark, I'm afraid-and an expensive one for me, at that. The real hole has still got to be dug."

"Well," said Holly, "you say it was only a lark, Hazel, but at least it gave us two does: and they're the only two we've got."

"Are they any good?"

The kind of ideas that have become natural to many male human beings in thinking of females-ideas of protection, fidelity, romantic love and so on-are, of course, unknown to rabbits, although rabbits certainly do form exclusive attachments much more frequently than most people realize. However, they are not romantic and it came naturally to Hazel and Holly to consider the two Nuthanger does simply as breeding stock for the warren. This was what they had risked their lives for.

"Well, it's hard to say, yet," replied Holly. "They're doing their best to settle down with us-Clover particularly. She seems very sensible. But they're extraordinarily helpless, you know-I've never seen anything like it-and I'm afraid they may turn out to be delicate in bad weather. They might survive next winter and then again they might not. But you weren't to know that when you got them out of the farm."

"With a bit of luck, they might each have a litter before the winter," said Hazel. "I know the breeding season's over, but everything's so topsy-turvy with us here that there's no saying."

"Well, you ask me what I think," said Holly. "I'll tell you. I think they're precious little to be the only thing between us and the end of everything we've managed to do so far. I think they may very well not have any kittens for some time, partly because this isn't the season and partly because the life's so strange to them. And when they do, the kittens will very likely have a lot of this man-bred hutch stock in them. But what else is there to hope for? We must do the best we can with what we've got."

"Has anyone mated with them yet?" asked Hazel.

"No, neither of them has been ready so far. But I can see some fine old fights breaking out when they are."

"That's another problem. We can't go on with nothing but these two does."

"But what else can we do?"

"I know what we've got to do," said Hazel, "but I still can't see how. We've got to go back and get some does out of Efrafa."

"You might as well say you were going to get them out of Inlé, Hazel-rah. I'm afraid I can't have given you a very clear description of Efrafa."

"Oh, yes, you have-the whole idea scares me stiff. But we're going to do it."

"It can't be done."

"It can't be done by fighting or fair words, no. So it will have to be done by means of a trick."

"There's no trick will get the better of that lot, believe me. There are far more of them than there are of us: they're very highly organized: and I'm only telling the truth when I say that they can fight, run and follow a trail every bit as well as we can, and a lot of them, much better."

"The trick," said Hazel, turning to Blackberry, who all this time had been nibbling and listening in silence, "the trick will have to do three things. First, it will have to get the does out of Efrafa and secondly it will have to put paid to the pursuit. For a pursuit there's bound to be and we can't expect another miracle. But that's not all. Once we're clear of the place, we've got to become impossible to find-beyond the reach of any Wide Patrol."

"Yes," said Blackberry doubtfully. "Yes, I agree. To succeed we should have to manage all those things."

"Yes. And this trick, Blackberry, is going to be devised by you."

The sweet, carrion scent of dogwood filled the air; in the evening sunshine, the insects hummed around the dense white cymes hanging low above the grass. A pair of brown-and-orange beetles, disturbed by the feeding rabbits, took off from a grass stem and flew away, still coupled together.

"They mate. We don't," said Hazel, watching them go. "A trick, Blackberry: a trick to put us right once and for all."

"I can see how to do the first thing," said Blackberry. "At least, I think I can. But it's dangerous. The other two I can't see at all yet and I'd like to talk it over with Fiver."

"The sooner Fiver and I get back to the warren the better," said Hazel. "My leg's good enough now, but all the same I think we'll leave it for tonight. Good old Holly, will you tell them that Fiver and I will come early tomorrow morning? It worries me to think that Bigwig and Silver may start fighting about Clover at any moment."

"Hazel," said Holly, "listen. I don't like this idea of yours at all. I've been in Efrafa and you haven't. You're making a bad mistake and you might very well get us all killed."

It was Fiver who replied. "It ought to feel like that, I know," he said, "but somehow it doesn't: not to me. I believe we can do it. Anyway, I'm sure Hazel's right when he says it's the only chance we've got. Suppose we go on talking about it for a bit?"

"Not now," said Hazel. "Time for underground down here-come on. But if you two race up the hill, you'll probably be in time for some more sunshine at the top. Good night."

29. Return and Departure

The following morning all the rabbits were out at silflay by dawn and there was a good deal of excitement as they waited for Hazel. During the previous few days Blackberry had had to repeat several times the story of the journey to the farm and the finding of Hazel in the drain. One or two had suggested that Kehaar must have found Hazel and told Fiver secretly. But Kehaar denied this and, when pressed, replied cryptically that Fiver was one who had traveled a good deal further than he had himself. As for Hazel, he had acquired, in everyone's eyes, a kind of magical quality. Of all the warren, Dandelion was the last rabbit to fail to do justice to a good story and he had made the most of Hazel's heroic dash out of the ditch to save his friends from the farmers. No one had even suggested that Hazel might have been reckless in going to the farm. Against all odds he had got them two does: and now he was bringing their luck back to the warren.

Just before sunrise Pipkin and Speedwell saw Fiver coming through the wet grass near the summit of the down. They ran out to meet him and waited with him until Hazel came up to them. Hazel was limping and had evidently found the climb a strain, but after resting and feeding for a short time he was able to run down to the warren almost as fast as the others. The rabbits crowded round. Everyone wanted to touch him. He was sniffed and tussled with and rolled over in the grass until he felt almost as though he were being attacked. Human beings, on occasions of this kind, are usually full of questions, but the rabbits expressed their delight simply by proving to themselves through their senses that this was really Hazel-rah. It was all he could do to stand up to the rough play. "I wonder what would happen if I lay down under it?" he thought. "They'd kick me out, I dare say. They wouldn't have a crippled Chief Rabbit. This is a test as well as a welcome, even though they don't know it themselves. I'll test them, the rascals, before I'm done."

He pushed Buckthorn and Speedwell off his back and broke away to the edge of the wood. Strawberry and Boxwood were on the bank and he joined them and sat washing and combing himself in the sunrise.

"We can do with a few well-behaved fellows like you," he said to Boxwood. "Look at that rough lot out there-they nearly finished me off! What on earth do you make of us and how are you settling down?"

"Well, of course we find it strange," said Boxwood, "but we're learning. Strawberry here has been helping me a great deal. We were just seeing how many smells I could tell on the wind, but that's something that'll only come slowly. The smells are awfully strong on a farm, you know, and they don't mean much when you live behind wire. As far as I can make out, you all live by smell."

"Don't take too many risks to begin with," said Hazel. "Keep near the burrows-don't go out alone-all that sort of thing. And how about you, Strawberry? Are you better?"

"More or less," answered Strawberry, "as long as I sleep a lot and sit in the sun, Hazel-rah. I've been terrified half out of my wits-that's the bottom of it. I've had the shivers and the horrors for days. I kept thinking I was back in Efrafa."

"What was it like in Efrafa?" asked Hazel.

"I'd rather die than go back to Efrafa," said Strawberry, "or risk going anywhere near it. I don't know which was worse, the boredom or the fear. All the same," he added after a few moments, "there are rabbits there who'd be the same as we are if they could only live naturally, like us. Several would be glad to leave the place if they only could."

Before they went underground Hazel talked to almost all the rabbits. As he expected, they were disappointed over the failure at Efrafa and full of indignation at the ill-treatment of Holly and his companions. More than one thought, like Holly, that the two does were likely to give rise to trouble.

"There should have been more, Hazel," said Bigwig. "We shall all be at each other's throats, you know-I don't see how it's to be helped."

Late in the afternoon Hazel called everyone into the Honeycomb.

"I've been thinking things over," he said. "I know you must all have been really disappointed not to have got rid of me at Nuthanger Farm the other day, so I've decided to go a bit further next time."

"Where?" asked Bluebell.

"To Efrafa," replied Hazel, "if I can get anyone to come with me: and we shall bring back as many does as the warren needs."

There were murmurs of astonishment, and then Speedwell asked, "How?"

"Blackberry and I have got a plan," said Hazel, "but I'm not going to explain it now, for this reason. You all know that this is going to be a dangerous business. If any of you get caught and taken into Efrafa, they'll make you talk, all right. But those who don't know a plan can't give it away. I'll explain it later on, at the proper time."

"Are you going to need many rabbits, Hazel-rah?" asked Dandelion. "From all I hear, the whole lot of us wouldn't be enough to fight the Efrafans."

"I hope we shan't have to fight at all," replied Hazel, "but there's always the possibility. Anyway, it'll be a long journey home with the does, and if by any chance we meet a Wide Patrol on the way, there have got to be enough of us to deal with them."

"Would we have to go into Efrafa?" asked Pipkin timidly.

"No," said Hazel, "we shall-"

"I never thought, Hazel," interrupted Holly, "I never thought that the time would come when I should feel obliged to speak against you. But I can only say again that this is likely to be a complete disaster. I know what you think-you're counting on General Woundwort not having anyone as clever as Blackberry and Fiver. You're quite right-I don't think he has. But the fact remains that no one can get a bunch of does away from that place. You all know that I've spent my life patrolling and tracking in the open. Well, there are rabbits in the Efrafan Owsla who are better at it than I am-I'm admitting it: and they'll hunt you down with your does and kill you. Great Frith! We all have to meet our match some time or other! I know you want only to help us all, but do be sensible and give this scheme up. Believe me, the best thing to do with a place like Efrafa is to stay as far away from it as possible."

Talk broke out all over the Honeycomb. "That must be right!" "Who wants to be torn to pieces?" "That rabbit with the mutilated ears-" "Well, but Hazel-rah must know what's doing." "It's too far." "I don't want to go."

Hazel waited patiently for quiet. At last he said, "It's like this. We can stay here and try to make the best of things as they are, or we can put them right once and for all. Of course there's a risk: anyone knows that who's heard what happened to Holly and the others. But haven't we faced one risk after another, all the way from the warren we left? What do you mean to do? Stay here and scratch each other's eyes out over two does, when there are plenty in Efrafa that you're afraid to go and get, even though they'd be only too glad to come and join us?"

Someone called out, "What does Fiver think?"

"I'm certainly going," said Fiver quietly. "Hazel's perfectly right and there's nothing the matter with his plan. But I promise you this, all of you. If I do come, later on, to feel any kind of misgiving, I shan't keep it to myself."

"And if that happens, I shan't ignore it," said Hazel.

There was silence. Then Bigwig spoke.

"You may as well all know that I'm going," he said, "and we shall have Kehaar with us, if that appeals to you at all."

There was a buzz of surprise.

"Of course, there are some of us who ought to stay here," said Hazel. "The farm rabbits can't be expected to go; and I'm not asking anyone who went the first time to go back again."

"I'll come, though," said Silver. "I hate General Woundwort and his Council with all my guts and if we're really going to make fools of them I want to be there, as long as I don't have to go back inside the place-that I couldn't face. But, after all, you're going to need someone who knows the way."

"I'll come," said Pipkin. "Hazel-rah saved my-I mean, I'm sure he knows what's-" He became confused. "Anyway, I'll come," he repeated, in a very nervous voice.

There was a scuffling in the run that led down from the wood and Hazel called, "Who's that?"

"It's I, Hazel-rah-Blackberry."

"Blackberry!" said Hazel. "Why, I thought you'd been here all the time. Where have you been?"

"Sorry not to have come before," said Blackberry. I've been talking to Kehaar, as a matter of fact, about the plan. He's improved it a good deal. If I'm not mistaken, General Woundwort's going to look remarkably silly before we've finished. I thought at first that it couldn't be done, but now I feel sure it can."

"Come where the grass is greener," said Bluebell,

"And the lettuces grow in rows,

"And a rabbit of free demeanor

"Is known by his well-scratched nose.

"I think I shall have to come, just to satisfy my curiosity. I've been opening and shutting my mouth like a baby bird to know about this plan and no one puts anything in. I suppose Bigwig's going to dress up as a hrududu and drive all the does across the field."

Hazel turned on him sharply. Bluebell sat up on his hind legs and said, "Please, General Woundwort, sir, I'm only a little hrududu and I've left all my petrol on the grass, so if you wouldn't mind eating the grass, sir, while I just give this lady a ride-"

"Bluebell," said Hazel, "shut up!"

"I'm sorry, Hazel-rah," replied Bluebell in surprise. "I didn't mean any harm. I was only trying to cheer everyone up a bit. After all, most of us feel frightened at the idea of going to this place and you can't blame us, can you? It sounds horribly dangerous."

"Well, look here," said Hazel, "we'll finish this meeting now. Let's wait and see what we decide-that's the rabbits' way. No one has to go to Efrafa who doesn't want to, but it's clear enough that some of us mean to go. Now I'm off to talk to Kehaar myself."

He found Kehaar just inside the trees, snapping and tearing with his great beak at a foul-smelling piece of flaking brown flesh which seemed to be hanging from a tracery of bones. He wrinkled his nose in disgust at the odor, which filled the wood around and was already attracting ants and bluebottles.

"What on earth is that, Kehaar?" he asked. "It smells appalling!"

"You not know? Heem feesh, feesh, come from Peeg Vater. Ees goot."

"Come from Big Water? (Ugh!) Did you find it there?"

"Na, na. Men have heem. Down to farm ees plenty peeg rubbish place, all t'ings dere. I go for food, find heem, all smell like Peeg Vater, pick heem up, pring heem back: make me t'ink all about Peeg Vater." He began to tear again at the half-eaten kipper. Hazel sat choking with nausea and disgust as Kehaar lifted it entire and beat it against a beech root, so that small fragments flew round them. He collected himself and made an effort.

"Kehaar," he said, "Bigwig says you told him you'd come and help us to get the mothers out of the big warren."

"Ya, ya, I come for you. Meester Pigvig, 'e need me for 'elp 'im. Van 'e dere, 'e talk to me, I not rabbit. Ees goot, ya?"

"Yes, rather. It's the only possible way. You're a good friend to us, Kehaar."

"Ya, ya, 'elp you for get mudders. But now ees dis, Meester 'Azel. Always I vant Peeg Vater now-alvays, alvays. Ees hearing Peeg Vater, vant to fly to Peeg Vater. Now soon you go for get mudders, I 'elp you, 'ow you like. Den, ven you getting mudders, I leave you dere, fly avay, no come back. But I come back anudder time, ya? Come in autumn, in vinter I come live 'ere vid you, ya?"

"We shall miss you, Kehaar. But when you come back we'll have a fine warren here, with lots of mothers. You'll be able to feel proud of all you did to help us."

"Ya, vill be so. But Meester 'Azel, ven you go? I vant 'elp you, but I no vant vait for go Peeg Vater. Ees hard now for stay, you know? Dis vat you do, do heem queek, ya?"

Bigwig came up the run, put his head out of the hole and stopped in horror.

"Frith up a tree!" he said. "What a fearful smell! Did you kill it, Kehaar, or did it die under a stone?"

"You like, Meester Pigvig? I pring you nice liddle pit, ya?"

"Bigwig," said Hazel, "go and tell all the others that we're setting off at daybreak tomorrow. Holly will be Chief Rabbit here until we get back and Buckthorn, Strawberry and the farm rabbits are to stay with him. Anyone else who wants to stay will be perfectly free to do so."

"Don't worry," said Bigwig, from the hole. "I'll send them all up to silflay with Kehaar. They'll go anywhere you like before a duck can dive."