Watership Down

39. The Bridges

On almost any other river, Blackberry's plan would not have worked. The punt would not have left the bank or, if it had, would have run aground or been fouled by weeds or some other obstruction. But here, on the Test, there were no submerged branches and no gravel spits or beds of weed above the surface at all. From bank to bank the current, regular and unvaried, flowed as fast as a man strolling. The punt slipped downstream smoothly, without any alteration of the speed which it had gained within a few yards of leaving the bank.

Most of the rabbits had very little idea of what was happening. The Efrafan does had never seen a river and it would certainly have been beyond Pipkin or Hawkbit to explain to them that they were on a boat. They-and nearly all the others-had simply trusted Hazel and done as they were told. But all-bucks and does alike-realized that Woundwort and his followers had vanished. Wearied by all they had gone through, the sodden rabbits crouched without talking, incapable of any feeling but a dull relief and without even the energy to wonder what was going to happen next.

That they should feel any relief-dull or otherwise-was remarkable in the circumstances and showed both how little they understood their situation and how much fear Woundwort could inspire, for their escape from him seemed to be their only good fortune. The rain was still falling. Already so wet that they no longer felt it, they were nevertheless shivering with cold and weighted with their drenched fur. The punt was holding over half an inch of rainwater. There was one small, slatted floorboard and this was floating. Some of the rabbits, in the first confusion of boarding the punt, had found themselves in this water, but now all had got clear of it-most either to bows or stern, though Thethuthinnang and Speedwell were hunched on the narrow thwart, amidships. In addition to their discomfort, they were exposed and helpless. Finally, there was no way of controlling the punt and they did not know where they were going. But these last were troubles beyond the understanding of everyone but Hazel, Fiver and Blackberry.

Bigwig had collapsed beside Hazel and lay on his side, exhausted. The feverish courage which had brought him from Efrafa to the river had gone and his wounded shoulder had begun to hurt badly. In spite of the rain and the throbbing pulse down his foreleg, he felt ready to sleep where he was, stretched upon the planking. He opened his eyes and looked up at Hazel.

"I couldn't do it again, Hazel-rah," he said.

"You haven't got to," replied Hazel.

"It was touch and go, you know," said Bigwig. "A chance in a thousand."

"Our children's children will hear a good story," answered Hazel, quoting a rabbit proverb. "How did you get that wound? It's a nasty one."

"I fought a member of the Council police," said Bigwig.

"A what?" The term «Owslafa» was unknown to Hazel.

"A dirty little beast like Hufsa," said Bigwig.

"Did you beat him?"

"Oh, yes-or I shouldn't be here. I should think he'll stop running. I say, Hazel-rah, we've got the does. What's going to happen now?"

"I don't know," said Hazel. "We need one of these clever rabbits to tell us. And Kehaar-where's he gone? He's supposed to know about this thing we're sitting on."

Dandelion, crouching beside Hazel, got up at the mention of "clever rabbits," made his way across the puddled floor and returned with Blackberry and Fiver.

"We're all wondering what to do next," said Hazel.

"Well," said Blackberry, "I suppose we shall drift into the bank before long and then we can get out and find cover. There's no harm, though, in going a good long way from those friends of Bigwig's."

"There is," said Hazel. "We're stuck here in full view and we can't run. If a man sees us we're in trouble."

"Men don't like rain," said Blackberry. "Neither do I, if it comes to that, but it makes us safer just now."

At this moment Hyzenthlay, sitting just behind him, started and looked up.

"Excuse me, sir, for interrupting you," she said, as though speaking to an officer in Efrafa, "but the bird-the white bird-it's coming toward us."

Kehaar came flying up the river through the rain and alighted on the narrow side of the punt. The does nearest to him backed away nervously.

"Meester 'Azel," he said, "pridge come. You see 'im pridge?"

It had not occurred to any of the rabbits that they were floating beside the path up which they had come earlier that evening before the storm broke. They were on the opposite side of the hedge of plants along the bank and the whole river looked different. But now they saw, not far ahead, the bridge which they had crossed when they first came to the Test four nights before. This they recognized at once, for it looked the same as it had from the bank.

"Maybe you go under 'im, maybe not," said Kehaar. "But you sit dere, ees trouble."

The bridge stretched from bank to bank between two low abutments. It was not arched. Its underside, made of iron girders, was perfectly straight-parallel with the surface and about eight niches above it. Just in time Hazel saw what Kehaar meant. If the punt did pass under the bridge without sticking, it would do so by no more than a claw's breadth. Any creature above the level of the sides would be struck and perhaps knocked into the river. He scuttered through the warm bilgewater to the other end and pushed his way up among the wet, crowded rabbits.

"Get down in the bottom! Get down in the bottom!" he said. "Silver, Hawkbit-all of you. Never mind the water. You, and you-what's your name? Oh, Blackavar, is it? — get everyone into the bottom. Be quick."

Like Bigwig, he found that the Efrafan rabbits obeyed him at once. He saw Kehaar fly up from his perch and disappear over the wooden rails. The concrete abutments projected from each bank, so that the narrowed river ran slightly faster under the bridge. The punt had been drifting broadside on, but now one end swung forward, so that Hazel lost his bearings and found that he was no longer looking at the bridge but at the bank. As he hesitated, the bridge seemed to come at him in a dark mass, like snow sliding from a bough. He pressed himself into the bilge. There was a squeal and a rabbit tumbled on top of him. Then a heavy blow vibrated along the length of the punt and its smooth movement was checked. This was followed by a hollow sound of scraping. It grew dark and a roof appeared, very low above him. For a moment Hazel had the vague idea that he was underground. Then the roof vanished, the punt was gliding on and he heard Kehaar calling. They were below the bridge and still drifting downstream.

The rabbit who had fallen on him was Acorn. He had been struck by the bridge and the blow had sent him flying. However, though dazed and bruised, he seemed to have escaped injury.

"I wasn't quick enough, Hazel-rah," he said. "I'd better go to Efrafa for a bit."

"You'd be wasted," said Hazel. "But I'm afraid there's someone at the other end who hasn't been so lucky."

One of the does had held back from the bilgewater, and the upstream girder under the bridge had caught her across the back. It was plain that she was injured, but how badly Hazel could not tell. He saw Hyzenthlay beside her and it seemed to him that since there was nothing he could do to help, it would probably be best to let them alone. He looked round at his bedraggled, shivering comrades and then at Kehaar, spruce and brisk on the stem.

"We ought to get back on the bank, Kehaar," he said. "How can we do it? Rabbits weren't meant for this, you know."

"You not stop poat. But again is nudder pridge more. 'E stop 'im."

There was nothing to be done but wait. They drifted on and came to a second bend, where the river curved westward. The current did not slacken and the punt came round the bend almost in the middle of the stream, revolving as it did so. The rabbits had been frightened by what had happened to Acorn and to the doe, and remained squatting miserably, half in and half out of the bilge. Hazel crept back to the raised bow and looked ahead.

The river broadened and the current slackened. He realized that they had begun to drift more slowly. The nearer bank was high and the trees stood close and thick, but on the further bank the ground was low and open. Grassy, it stretched away, smooth as the mown gallops on Watership Down. Hazel hoped that they might somehow drop out of the current and reach that side, but the punt moved quietly on, down the very center of the broad pool. The open bank slipped by and now the trees towered on both sides. Downstream, the pool was closed by the second bridge, of which Kehaar had spoken.

It was old, built of darkened bricks. Ivy trailed over it and the valerian and creeping mauve toadflax. Well out from either bank stood four low arches-scarcely more than culverts, each filled by the stream to within a foot of the apex. Through them, thin segments of daylight showed from the downstream side. The piers did not project, but against each lay a little accumulation of flotsam, from which driftweed and sticks continually broke away to be carried through the bridge.

It was plain that the punt would drift against the bridge and be held there. As it approached, Hazel dropped back into the bilgewater. But this time there was no need. Broadside on, the punt struck gently against two of the piers and stopped, pinned squarely across the mouth of one of the central culverts. It could go no further.

They had floated not quite half a mile in just over fifteen minutes.

Hazel put his forepaws on the low side and looked gingerly over upstream. Immediately below, a shallow ripple spread all along the waterline, where the current met the woodwork. It was too far to jump to the shore and both banks were steep. He turned and looked upward. The brickwork was sheer, with a projecting course half way between him and the parapet. There was no scrambling up that.

"What's to be done, Blackberry?" he asked, making his way to the bolt fixed on the bow, with its ragged remnant of painter. "You got us on this thing. How do we get off?"

"I don't know, Hazel-rah," replied Blackberry. "Of all the ways we could finish up, I never thought of this. It looks as though we'll have to swim."

"Swim?" said Silver. "I don't fancy it, Hazel-rah. I know it's no distance, but look at those banks. The current would take us down before we could get out: and that means into one of these holes under the bridge."

Hazel tried to look through the arch. There was very little to be seen. The dark tunnel was not long-perhaps not much longer than the punt itself. The water looked smooth. There seemed to be no obstructions and there was room for the head of a swimming animal between the surface of the water and the apex of the arch. But the segment was so narrow that it was impossible to see exactly what lay on the other side of the bridge. The light was failing. Water, green leaves, moving reflections of leaves, the splashing of the raindrops and some curious thing that appeared to be standing in the water and to be made of vertical gray lines-these were all that could be made out. The rain echoed dismally up the culvert. The hard, ringing noise from under the soffit, so much unlike any sound to be heard in an earth tunnel, was disturbing. Hazel returned to Blackberry and Silver.

"This is as bad a fix as we've been in," he said. "We can't stay here, but I can't see any way out."

Kehaar appeared on the parapet above them, flapped the rain out of his wings and dropped down to the punt.

"Ees finish poat," he said. "Not vait more."

"But how can we get to the bank, Kehaar?" said Hazel.

The gull was surprised. "Dog sveem, rat sveem. You no sveem?"

"Yes, we can swim as long as it's not very far. But the banks are too steep for us, Kehaar. We wouldn't be able to stop the current taking us down one of these tunnels and we don't know what's at the other end."

"Ees goot-you get out fine."

Hazel felt at a loss. What exactly was he to understand from this? Kehaar was not a rabbit. Whatever the Big Water was like, it must be worse than this and Kehaar was used to it. He never said much in any case and what he did say was always restricted to the simplest, since he spoke no Lapine. He was doing them a good turn because they had saved his life but, as Hazel knew, he could not help despising them for timid, helpless, stay-at-home creatures who could not fly. He was often impatient. Did he mean that he had looked at the river and considered it as if he were a rabbit? That there was slack water immediately below the bridge, with a low, shelving bank where they could get out easily? That seemed too much to hope for. Or did he simply mean that they had better hurry up and take a chance on being able to do what he himself could do without difficulty? This seemed more likely. Suppose one of them did jump out of the boat and go down with the current-what would that tell the others, if he did not come back?

Poor Hazel looked about him. Silver was licking Bigwig's wounded shoulder. Blackberry was fidgeting on and off the thwart, strung up, able to feel only too clearly all that Hazel felt himself. As he still hesitated, Kehaar let out a squawk.

"Yark! Damn rabbits no goot. Vat I do, I show you."

He tumbled clumsily off the raised bow. There was no gap between the punt and the dark mouth of the culvert. Sitting low in the water like a mallard, he floated into the tunnel and vanished. Peering after him, Hazel could at first see nothing. Then he made out Kehaar's shape black against the light at the far end. It floated into daylight, turned sideways and passed out of the restricted view.

"What does that prove?" said Blackberry, his teeth chattering. "He may have flown off the surface or put his great webbed feet down. It's not he that's soaked through and shivering and twice as heavy with wet fur."

Kehaar reappeared on the parapet above.

"You go now," he said shortly.

Still the wretched Hazel hung back. His leg had begun to hurt again. The sight of Bigwig-Bigwig of all rabbits-at the end of his tether, half unconscious, playing no part in this desperate exploit, lowered his courage still more. He knew that he had not got it in him to jump into the water. The horrible situation was beyond him. He stumbled on the slippery planking and, as he sat up, found Fiver beside him.

"I'll go, Hazel," said Fiver quietly. "I think it'll be all right."

He put his front paws on the edge of the bow. Then, on the instant, all the rabbits froze motionless. One of the does stamped on the puddled floor of the punt. From above came the sounds of approaching footsteps and men's voices, and the smell of a burning white stick.

Kehaar flew away. Not a rabbit moved. The footsteps grew nearer, the voices louder. They were on the bridge above, no further away than the height of a hedge. Every one of the rabbits was seized by the instinct to run, to go underground. Hazel saw Hyzenthlay looking at him and returned her stare, willing her with all his might to keep still. The voices, the smell of men's sweat, of leather, of white sticks, the pain in his leg, the damp, chuckling tunnel at his very ear-he had known them all before. How could the men not see him? They must see him. He was lying at their feet. He was wounded. They were coming to pick him up.

Then the sounds and smells were receding into the distance, the thudding of the footsteps diminished. The men had crossed the bridge without looking over the parapet. They were gone.

Hazel came to. "That settles it," he said. "Everyone's got to swim. Come on, Bluebell, you say you're a water rabbit. Follow me." He got on the thwart and went along it to the side.

But it was Pipkin that he found next to him.

"Quick, Hazel-rah," said Pipkin, twitching and trembling. "I'll come, too. Only be quick."

Hazel shut his eyes and fell over the side into the water.

As in the Enborne, there was an instant shock of cold. But more than this, and at once, he felt the pull of the current. He was being drawn away by a force like a high wind, yet smooth and silent. He was drifting helplessly down a suffocating, cold run, with no hold for his feet. Full of fear, he paddled and struggled, got his head up and took a breath, scrabbled his claws against rough bricks under water and lost them again as he was dragged on. Then the current slackened, the run vanished, the dark became light and there were leaves and sky above him once more. Still struggling, he fetched up against something hard, bumped off it, struck it again and then for a moment touched soft ground. He floundered forward and found that he was dragging himself through liquid mud. He was out on a clammy bank. He lay panting for several moments and then wiped his face and opened his eyes. The first thing he saw was Pipkin, plastered with mud, crawling to the bank a few feet away.

Full of elation and confidence, all his terrors forgotten, Hazel crawled over to Pipkin and together they slipped into the undergrowth. He said nothing and Pipkin did not seem to expect him to speak. From the shelter of a clump of purple loosestrife they looked back at the river.

The water came out from the bridge into a second pool. All round, on both banks, trees and undergrowth grew close. There was a kind of swamp here and it was hard to tell where water ended and woodland began. Plants grew in clumps both in and out of the muddy shallows. The bottom was covered with fine silt and mud that was half water and in this the two rabbits had made furrows as they dragged themselves to shore. Running diagonally across the pool, from the brickwork of the bridge near the opposite bank to a point a little below them on their own side, was a grating of thin, vertical iron rods. In the cutting season the river weed, drifting in tangled mats from the fishing reaches above, was held against this grating and raked out of the pool by men in waders, who piled it to be used as compost. The left bank was a great rubbish heap of rotting weed among the trees. It was a green, rank-smelling place, humid and enclosed.

"Good old Kehaar!" said Hazel, gazing with satisfaction round the fetid solitude. "I should have trusted him."

As he spoke, a third rabbit came swimming out from under the bridge. The sight of him, struggling in the current like a fly in a spider's web, filled them both with fear. To watch another in danger can be almost as bad as sharing it. The rabbit fetched up against the grating, drifted a little way along it, found the bottom and crawled out of the turbid water. It was Blackavar. He lay on his side and seemed unaware of Hazel and Pipkin when they came up to him. After a little while, however, he began to cough, vomited some water and sat up.

"Are you all right?" asked Hazel.

"More or less," said Blackavar. "But have we got to do much more tonight, sir? I'm very tired."

"No, you can rest here," said Hazel. "But why did you risk it on your own? We might already have gone under, for all you knew."

"I thought you gave an order," replied Blackavar.

"I see," said Hazel. "Well, at that rate you're going to find us a sloppy lot, I'm afraid. Was there anyone else who looked like coming when you jumped in?"

"I think they're a bit nervous," answered Blackavar. "You can't blame them."

"No, but the trouble is that anything can happen," said Hazel, fretting. "They may all go tharn, sitting there. The men may come back. If only we could tell them it's all right-"

"I think we can, sir," said Blackavar. "Unless I'm wrong, it's only a matter of slipping up the bank there and down the other side. Shall I go?"

Hazel was disconcerted. From what he had gathered, this was a disgraced prisoner from Efrafa-not even a member of the Owsla, apparently-and he had just said that he felt exhausted. He was going to take some living up to.

"We'll both go," he said. "Hlao-roo, can you stay here and keep a lookout? With any luck, they'll start coming through to you. Help them if you can."

Hazel and Blackavar slipped through the dripping undergrowth. The grass track which crossed the bridge ran above them, at the top of a steep bank. They climbed the bank and looked out cautiously from the long grass at the verge. The track was empty and there was nothing to be heard or smelled. They crossed it and reached the end of the bridge on the upstream side. Here the bank dropped almost sheer to the river, some six feet below. Blackavar scrambled down without hesitation, but Hazel followed more slowly. Just above the bridge, between it and a thorn bush upstream, was a ledge of turf which overhung the water. Out in the river, a few feet away, the punt lay against the weedy piers.

"Silver!" said Hazel. "Fiver! Come on, get them into the water. It's all right below the bridge. Get the does in first, if you can. There's no time to lose. The men may come back."

It was no easy matter to rouse the torpid, bewildered does and make them understand what they had to do. Silver went from one to another. Dandelion, as soon as he saw Hazel on the bank, went at once to the bow and plunged in. Speedwell followed, but as Fiver was about to go Silver stopped him.

"If all our bucks go, Hazel," he said, "the does will be left alone and I don't think they'll manage it."

"They'll obey Thlayli, sir," said Blackavar, before Hazel could reply. "I think he's the one to get them started."

Bigwig was still lying in the bilgewater, in the place he had taken up when they came to the first bridge. He seemed to be asleep, but when Silver nuzzled him he raised his head and looked about in a dazed manner.

"Oh, hello, Silver," he said. "I'm afraid this shoulder of mine's going to be a bother. I feel awfully cold, too. Where's Hazel?"

Silver explained. Bigwig got up with difficulty and they saw that he was still bleeding. He limped to the thwart and climbed on it.

"Hyzenthlay," he said, "your friends can't be any wetter, so we'll get them to jump in now. One by one, don't you think? Then there'll be no risk of them scratching or hurting each other as they swim."

In spite of what Blackavar had said, it was a long time before everyone had left the boat. There were in fact ten does altogether-though none of the rabbits knew the number-and although one or two responded to Bigwig's patient urging, several were so much exhausted that they remained huddled where they were, or looked stupidly at the water until others were brought to take their place. From time to time Bigwig would ask one of the bucks to give a lead and in this way Acorn, Hawkbit and Bluebell all scrambled over the side. The injured doe, Thrayonlosa, was clearly in a bad way and Blackberry and Thethuthinnang swam through together, one in front of her and one behind.

As darkness closed in, the rain stopped. Hazel and Blackavar went back to the bank of the pool below the bridge. The sky cleared and the oppression lifted as the thunder moved away eastward. But it was fu Inlé before Bigwig himself came through the bridge with Silver and Fiver. It was as much as ever he could do to keep afloat, and when he reached the grating he rolled over in the water, belly uppermost, like a dying fish. He drifted into the shallows and, with Silver's help, pulled himself out. Hazel and several of the others were waiting for him, but he cut them short with a flash of his old bullying manner. "Come on, get out of the way," he said. "I'm going to sleep now, Hazel, and Frith help you if you say I'm not."

"That's how we go on, you see," said Hazel to the staring Blackavar. "You'll get used to it after a bit, Now, let's look for somewhere dry that no one else has found and then perhaps we can sleep, too."

Every dry spot among the undergrowth seemed to be crowded with exhausted, sleeping rabbits. After searching for a time they found a fallen tree trunk, from the underside of which the bark had pulled away. They crept beneath the twigs and leaves, settled themselves in the smooth, curved trough-which soon took on some of the warmth of their bodies-and slept at once.

40. The Way Back

The first thing that Hazel learned the next morning was that Thrayonlosa had died during the night. Thethuthinnang was distressed, for it was she who had picked Thrayonlosa as one of the more sturdy and sensible does in the Mark and persuaded her to join in the escape. After they had come through the bridge together, she had helped her ashore and fallen asleep beside her in the undergrowth, hoping that she might have recovered by the next day. But she had woken to find Thrayonlosa gone and, searching, had found her in a clump of reeds downstream. Evidently the poor creature had felt that she was going to die and, in the manner of animals, had slipped away.

The news depressed Hazel. He knew that they had been lucky to get so many does out of Efrafa and to escape from Woundwort without having to stand and fight. The plan had been a good one, but the storm and the frightening efficiency of the Efrafans had nearly defeated it. For all the courage of Bigwig and of Silver, they would have failed without Kehaar. Now Kehaar was going to leave them, Bigwig was wounded, and his own leg was none too good. With the does to look after, they would not be able to travel in the open as fast or as easily as they had on the way down from Watership. He would have liked to stay where they were for a few days, so that Bigwig could recover his strength and the does find their feet and get used to life outside a warren. But the place, he realized, was hopelessly inhospitable. Although there was good cover, it was too wet for rabbits. Besides, it was evidently close to a road busier than any they had known. Soon after daylight they began to hear and smell hrududil passing, not so far away as the breadth of a small field. There was continual disturbance and the does in particular were startled and uneasy. Thrayonlosa's death made matters worse. Worried by the noise and vibration and unable to feed, the does kept wandering downstream to look at the body and whisper together about the strange and dangerous surroundings.

He consulted Blackberry, who pointed out that probably it would not be long before men found the boat; then very likely several would be close by for some time. This decided Hazel that they had better set out at once and try to reach somewhere where they could rest more easily. He could hear and smell that the swamp extended a long way downstream. With the road lying to the south, the only way seemed to be northward, over the bridge, which was in any case the way home.

Taking Bigwig with him, he climbed the bank to the grass track. The first thing they saw was Kehaar, picking slugs out of a clump of hemlock near the bridge. They came up to him without speaking and began to nibble the short grass nearby.

After a little while Kehaar said, "Now you getting mudders, Meester 'Azel. All go fine, eh?"

"Yes. We'd never have done it without you, Kehaar. I hear you turned up just in time to save Bigwig last night."

"Dis bad rabbit, pig fella, 'e go fight me. Plenty clever, too."

"Yes. He got a shock for once, though."

"Ya, ya. Meester 'Azel, soon is men come. Vat you do now?"

"We're going back to our warren, Kehaar, if we can get there."

"Ees finish here now for me. I go to Peeg Vater."

"Shall we see you again, Kehaar?"

"You go back hills? Stay dere?"

"Yes, we mean to get there. It's going to be hard going with so many rabbits, and there'll be Efrafan patrols to dodge, I expect."

"You get dere, later on ees vinter, plenty cold, plenty storm on Peeg Vater. Plenty bird come in. Den I come back, see you vere you live."

"Don't forget, then, Kehaar, will you?" said Bigwig. "We shall be looking out for you. Come down suddenly, like you did last night."

"Ya, ya, frighten all mudders und liddle rabbits, all liddle Pigvigs run avay."

Kehaar arched his wings and rose into the air. He flew over the parapet of the bridge and upstream. Then he turned in a circle to the left, came back over the grass track and flew straight down it, skimming just over the rabbits' heads. He gave one of his raucous cries and was gone to the southward. They gazed after him as he disappeared above the trees.

"Oh, fly away, great bird so white," said Bigwig. "You know, he made me feel I could fly, too. That Big Water! I wish I could see it."

As they continued to look in the direction where Kehaar had gone, Hazel noticed for the first time a cottage at the far end of the track, where the grass sloped up to join the road. A man, taking care to keep still, was leaning over the hedge and watching them intently. Hazel stamped and bolted into the undergrowth of the swamp, with Bigwig hard on his heels.

"You know what he's thinking about?" said Bigwig. "He's thinking about the vegetables in his garden."

"I know," replied Hazel. "And we shan't be able to keep this lot away from them once they get the idea into their heads. The quicker we push on the better."

Shortly afterward the rabbits set out across the park to the north. Bigwig soon found that he was not up to a long journey. His wound was painful and the shoulder muscle would not stand hard use. Hazel was still lame and the does, though willing and obedient, showed that they knew little about the life of hlessil. It was a trying time.

In the days that followed-days of clear sky and fine weather-Blackavar proved his worth again and again, until Hazel came to rely on him as much as on any of his veterans. There was a great deal more to him than anyone could have guessed. When Bigwig had determined not to come out of Efrafa without Blackavar, he had been moved entirely by pity for a miserable, helpless victim of Woundwort's ruthlessness. It turned out, however, that Blackavar, when not crushed by humiliation and ill-treatment, was a good cut above the ordinary. His story was an unusual one. His mother had not been born an Efrafan. She had been one of the rabbits taken prisoner when Woundwort attacked the warren at Nutley Copse. She had mated with an Efrafan captain and had had no other mate. He had been killed on Wide Patrol. Blackavar, proud of his father, had grown up with the resolve to become an officer in the Owsla. But together with this-and paradoxically-there had come to him from his mother a certain resentment against Efrafa and a feeling that they should have no more of him than he cared to give them. Captain Mallow, to whose Mark-the Right Fore-he had been sent on trial, had praised his courage and endurance but had not failed to notice the proud detachment of his nature. When the Right Flank needed a junior officer to help Captain Chervil, it was Avens and not Blackavar who had been selected by the Council. Blackavar, who knew his own worth, felt convinced that his mother's blood had prejudiced the Council against him. While still full of his wrongs he had met Hyzenthlay and made himself a secret friend and adviser of the discontented does in the Right Fore. He had begun by urging them to try to get the Council's consent to their leaving Efrafa. If they had succeeded they would have asked for him to be allowed to go with them. But when the does' deputation to the Council failed, Blackavar turned to the idea of escape. At first he had meant to take the does with him, but his nerve, strained to the limit, as Bigwig's had been, by the dangers and uncertainties of conspiracy, had given way and in the end he had simply made a dash on his own, to be caught by Campion. Under the punishment inflicted by the Council his mercurial spirit had fallen low and he had become the apathetic wretch the sight of whom had so much shocked Bigwig. Yet at the whispered message in the hraka pit this spirit had flickered up again where another's might well have failed to do so, and he had been ready to set all on the hazard and have another shot. Now, free among these easy-going strangers, he saw himself as a trained Efrafan using his skill to help them in their need. Although he did all that he was told, he did not hesitate to make suggestions as well, particularly when it came to reconnoitering and looking for signs of danger. Hazel, who was ready to accept advice from anybody when he thought it was good, listened to most of what he said and was content to leave it to Bigwig-for whom, naturally, Blackavar entertained a tremendous respect-to see that he did not overreach himself in his warm-hearted, rather candid zeal.

After two or three days of slow, careful journeying, with many halts in cover, they found themselves, late one afternoon, once more in sight of Caesar's Belt, but further west than before, close to a little copse at the top of some rising ground. Everyone was tired and when they had fed-"evening silflay every day, just as you promised," said Hyzenthlay to Bigwig-Bluebell and Speedwell suggested that it might be worthwhile to dig some scrapes in the light soil under the trees and live there for a day or two. Hazel felt willing enough, but Fiver needed persuasion.

"I know we can do with a rest, but somehow I don't altogether like it, Hazel-rah," he said. "I suppose I've got to try to think why?"

"Not on my account," answered Hazel. "But I doubt you'll shift the others this time. One or two of these does are 'ready for mudder, as Kehaar would say, and that's the real reason why Bluebell and the rest are prepared to be at the trouble of digging scrapes. Surely it'll be all right at that rate, won't it? You know what they say-'Rabbit underground, rabbit safe and sound. »

"Well, you may be right," said Fiver. "That Vilthuril's a beautiful doe. I'd like a chance to get to know her better. After all, it's not natural to rabbits, is it? — on and on day after day."

Later, however, when Blackavar returned with Dandelion from a patrol they had undertaken on their own initiative, he came out more strongly against the idea.

"This is no place to stop, Hazel-rah," he said. "No Wide Patrol would bivouac here. It's fox country. We ought to try to get further before dark."

Bigwig's shoulder had been hurting him a good deal during the afternoon and he felt low and surly. It seemed to him that Blackavar was being clever at other people's expense. If he got his way they would have to go on, tired as they were, until they came to somewhere which was suitable by Efrafan standards. There they would be as safe-no more and no less-than they would have been if they had stayed at this copse; but Blackavar would be the clever fellow who had saved them from a fox that had never existed outside his own fancy. His Efrafan scoutcraft act was getting to be a bore. It was time someone called his bluff.

"There are likely to be foxes anywhere about the downs," said Bigwig sharply. "Why is this fox country more than anywhere else?"

Tact was a quality which Blackavar valued about as much as Bigwig did; and now he made the worst possible reply.

"I can't exactly tell you why," he said. "I've formed a strong impression, but it's hard to explain quite what it's based on."

"Oh, an impression, eh?" sneered Bigwig. "Did you see any hraka? Pick up any scent? Or was it just a message from little green mice singing under a toadstool?"

Blackavar felt hurt. Bigwig was the last rabbit he wanted to quarrel with.

"Ye think I'm a fool, then," he answered, his Efrafan accent becoming more marked. "No, there was neether hraka ner scent, but I still think that this is a place where a fox comes. On these patrols we used to do, ye know, we-"

"Did you see or smell anything?" said Bigwig to Dandelion.

"Er-well, I'm not really quite sure," said Dandelion. "I mean, Blackavar seems to know an awful lot about patrolling and he asked me whether I didn't feel a sort of-"

"Well, we can go on like this all night," said Bigwig. "Blackavar, do you know that earlier this summer, before we had the benefit of your experience, we went for days across every kind of country-fields, heather, woods, downs-and never lost one rabbit?"

"It's the idea of scrapes, that's all," said Blackavar apologetically, "New scrapes get noticed; and digging can be heard a surprisingly long way, ye know."

"Let him alone," said Hazel, before Bigwig could speak again. "You didn't get him out of Efrafa to bully him. Look, Blackavar, I suppose I've got to decide this. I think you're probably right and there is a certain amount of risk. But we're at risk all the time until we get back to our warren and everyone's so tired that I think we might just as well stop here for a day or two. We shall be all the better for it."

Enough scrapes were finished by soon after sunset and next day, sure enough, all the rabbits felt a great deal better for a night underground. As Hazel had foreseen, there was some mating and a scuffle or two, but no one was hurt. By the evening a kind of holiday spirit prevailed. Hazel's leg was stronger and Bigwig felt fitter than at any time since he went into Efrafa. The does, harassed and bony two days before, were beginning to look quite sleek.

On the second morning, silflay did not begin until some time after dawn. A light wind was blowing straight into the north bank of the copse, where the scrapes had been dug, and Bluebell, when he came up, swore he could smell rabbits on it.

"It's old Holly pressing his chin glands for us, Hazel-rah," he said. "A rabbit's sneeze on the morning breeze sets homesick hearts aglow-"

"Sitting with his rump in a chicory clump and longing for a nice plump doe," replied Hazel.

"That won't do, Hazel-rah," said Bluebell. "He's got two does up there."

"Only hutch does," replied Hazel. "I dare say they're fairly tough and fast by now, but all the same they'll never be quite like our own kind. Clover, for instance-she'd never go far from the hole on silflay, because she knew she couldn't run as fast as we can. But these Efrafan does, you see-they've been kept in by sentries all their lives. Yet now there aren't any, they wander about quite happily. Look at those two, right away under the bank there. They feel they can-Oh, great Frith!"

As he spoke a tawny shape, dog-like, sprang out of the overhanging nut bushes as silently as light from behind a cloud. It landed between the two does, grabbed one by the neck and dragged her up the bank in a flash. The wind veered and the reek of fox came over the grass. With stamping and flashing of tails every rabbit on the slope dashed for cover.

Hazel and Bluebell found themselves crouched with Blackavar. The Efrafan was matter-of-fact and detached.

"Poor little beast," he said. "You see, their instincts are weakened by life in the Mark. Fancy feeding under bushes on the windward side of a wood! Never mind, Hazel-rah, these things happen. But look, I tell you what. Unless there are two hombil, which would be very bad luck, we've got till ni-Frith at least to get away. That homba won't be hunting any more for some time. I suggest we all move on as soon as we can."

With a word of agreement, Hazel went out to call the rabbits together. They made a scattered but swift run to the northeast, along the edge of a field of ripening wheat. No one spoke of the doe. They had covered more than three quarters of a mile before Bigwig and Hazel halted to rest and to make sure that no one had fallen behind. Blackavar came up with Hyzenthlay, Bigwig said,

"You told us how it would be, didn't you? And I was the one who wouldn't listen."

"Told you?" said Blackavar. "I don't understand."

"That there was likely to be a fox."

"I don't remember, I'm afraid. But I don't see that any of us could possibly have known. Anyway, what's a doe more or less?"

Bigwig looked at him in astonishment, but Blackavar, apparently unconcerned either to stress what he had said or to break off the talk, simply began to nibble the grass. Bigwig, puzzled moved away and himself began to feed a little distance off, with Hyzenthlay and Hazel.

"What's he getting at?" he asked after a while. "You were all there when he warned us, two nights ago, that there was likely to be a fox. I treated him badly."

"In Efrafa," said Hyzenthlay, "if a rabbit gave advice and the advice wasn't accepted, he immediately forgot it and so did everyone else. Blackavar thought what Hazel decided; and whether it turned out later to be right or wrong was all the same. His own advice had never been given."

"I can believe that," said Bigwig. "Efrafa! Ants led by a dog! But we're not in Efrafa now. Has he really forgotten that he warned us?"

"Probably he really has. But whether or not, you'd never get him to admit that he warned you or to listen while you told him he'd been right. He could no more do that than pass hraka underground."

"But you're an Efrafan. Do you think like that, too?"

"I'm a doe," said Hyzenthlay.

During the early afternoon they began to approach the Belt and Bigwig was the first to recognize the place where Dandelion had told the story of the Black Rabbit of Inlé.

"It was the same fox, you know," he said to Hazel. "That's almost certain. I ought to have realized how likely it was that-"

"Look here," said Hazel, "you know very well what we owe to you. The does all think El-ahrairah sent you to get them out of Efrafa. They believe no one else could have done it. As for what happened this morning, it was my fault as much as yours. But I never supposed we would get home without losing some rabbits. In fact we've lost two and that's better than I expected. We can get back to the Honeycomb tonight if we press on. Let's forget about the homba now, Bigwig-it can't be altered-and try to-Hello, who's this?"

They were coming to a thicket of juniper and dog roses, tangled at ground level with nettles and trails of bryony on which the berries were now beginning to ripen and turn red. As they stopped to pick a line into the undergrowth, four big rabbits appeared out of the long grass and sat looking down at them. One of the does, coming up the slope a little way behind, stamped and turned to bolt. They heard Blackavar check her sharply.

"Well, why don't you answer his question, Thlayli?" said one of the rabbits. "Who am I?"

There was a pause. Then Hazel spoke.

"I can see they're Efrafans because they're marked," he said. "Is that Woundwort?"

"No," said Blackavar, at his shoulder. "That's Captain Campion."

"I see," said Hazel. "Well, I've heard of you, Campion. I don't know whether you mean us any harm, but the best thing you can do is to let well alone. As far as we're concerned, our dealings with Efrafa are finished."

"You may think that," replied Campion, "but you'll find it's otherwise. That doe behind you must come with us; and so must any others that are with you."

As he spoke, Silver and Acorn appeared lower down the slope, followed by Thethuthinnang. After a glance at the Efrafans, Silver spoke quickly to Thethuthinnang, who slipped back through the burdocks. Then he came up to Hazel.

"I've sent for the white bird, Hazel," he said quietly.

As a piece of bluff it was effective. They saw Campion look upward nervously and another of the patrol glanced back to the cover of the bushes.

"What you're saying is stupid," said Hazel to Campion. "There are a lot of us here and unless you've got more rabbits than I can see, we're too many for you."

Campion hesitated. The truth was that for once in his life he had acted rashly. He had seen Hazel and Bigwig approaching, with Blackavar and one doe behind them. In his eagerness to have something really worthwhile to show on his return to the Council, he had jumped to the conclusion that they were alone. The Efrafans usually kept fairly close together in the open and it had not occurred to Campion that other rabbits might straggle more widely. He had seen a golden opportunity to attack-perhaps kill-the detestable Thlayli and Blackavar, together with their one companion-who seemed to be lame-and bring the doe back to the Council. This he could certainly have done; and he had decided to confront rather than ambush them, in the hope that the bucks would surrender without fighting. But now, as more rabbits began to appear in ones and twos, he realized that he had made a mistake.

"I have a great many more rabbits," he said. "The does must stay here. The rest of you can go. Otherwise we shall kill you."

"Very well," said Hazel. "Bring your whole patrol into the open and we'll do as you say."

By this time a considerable number of rabbits was coming up the slope. Campion and his patrol looked at them in silence but made no move.

"You'd better stay where you are," said Hazel at length. "If you try to interfere with us it will be the worse for you. Silver and Blackberry, take the does and go on. The rest of us will join you."

"Hazel-rah," whispered Blackavar, "the patrol must be killed-all of them. They mustn't report back to the General."

This had also occurred to Hazel. But as he thought of the dreadful fight and the four Efrafans actually torn to pieces-for that was what it would mean-he could not find it in his heart to do it. Like Bigwig, he felt a reluctant liking for Campion. Besides, it would take some doing. Quite probably some of his own rabbits would be killed-certainly wounded. They would not reach the Honeycomb that night and they would leave a fresh blood trail wherever they went. Apart from his dislike of the whole idea, there were disadvantages that might be fatal.

"No, we'll let them alone," he replied firmly.

Blackavar was silent and they sat watching Campion as the last of the does disappeared through the bushes.

"Now," said Hazel, "take your patrol and go the same way that you saw us come. Don't speak-go."

Campion and the patrol made off downhill and Hazel, relieved to be rid of them so easily, hurried after Silver, with the others close behind.

Once through the Belt, they made excellent progress. After the rest of a day and a half the does were in good shape. The promise of an end to the journey that night and the thought that they had escaped both the fox and the patrol made them eager and responsive. The only cause of delay was Blackavar, who seemed uneasy and kept hanging about in the rear. At last, in the late afternoon, Hazel sent for him and told him to go ahead, on the line of the path they were following, and look out for the long strip of the beech hanger in the dip on the morning side. Blackavar had not been gone very long before he came racing back.

"Hazel-rah, I've been quite close to that wood you spoke of," he said, "and there are two rabbits playing about on a patch of short grass just outside it."

"I'll come and see," said Hazel. "Dandelion, you come, too, will you?"

As they ran down the hill to the right of the track, Hazel fairly skipped to recognize the beech hanger. He noticed one or two yellow leaves and a faint touch of bronze here and there in the green boughs. Then he caught sight of Buckthorn and Strawberry running toward them across the grass.

"Hazel-rah!" cried Buckthorn. "Dandelion! What happened? Where are the others? Did you get any does? Is everyone all right?"

"They'll be here very soon," said Hazel. "Yes, we've got a lot of does and everyone who went has come back. This is Blackavar, who's come out of Efrafa."

"Good for him," said Strawberry. "Oh, Hazel-rah, we've watched at the end of the wood every evening since you went. Holly and Boxwood are all right-they're back at the warren: and what do you think? Clover's going to kindle. That's fine, isn't it?"

"Splendid," said Hazel. "She'll be the first. My goodness, we've had a time, I can tell you. And so I will-what a story! — but it must wait a bit. Come on-let's go and bring the others in."

By sunset the whole party-twenty rabbits all told-had made their way up the length of the beech hanger and reached the warren. They fed among the dew and the long shadows, with twilight already fallen in the fields below. Then they crowded down into the Honeycomb to hear Hazel and Bigwig tell the story of their adventures to those who had waited so eagerly and so long to hear it.

As the last rabbits disappeared underground the Wide Patrol, which had followed them from Caesar's Belt with superlative skill and discipline, veered away in a half-circle to the east and then turned for Efrafa. Campion was expert at finding a night's refuge in the open. He planned to rest until dawn and then cover the three miles back by evening of the following day.

41. The Story of Rowsby Woof and the Fairy Wogdog

Now came the dog days-day after day of hot, still summer, when for hours at a time light seemed the only thing that moved; the sky-sun, clouds and breeze-awake above the drowsing downs. The beech leaves grew darker on the boughs and fresh grass grew where the old had been nibbled close. The warren was thriving at last and Hazel could sit basking on the bank and count their blessings. Above and under ground, the rabbits fell naturally into a quiet, undisturbed rhythm of feeding, digging and sleeping. Several fresh runs and burrows were made. The does, who had never dug in their lives before, enjoyed the work. Both Hyzenthlay and Thethuthinnang told Hazel that they had had no idea how much of their frustration and unhappiness in Efrafa had been due simply to not being allowed to dig. Even Clover and Haystack found that they could manage pretty well and boasted that they would bear the warren's first litters in burrows that they had dug themselves. Blackavar and Holly became close friends. They talked a great deal about their different ideas of scouting and tracking, and made some patrols together, more for their own satisfaction than because there was any real need. One early morning they persuaded Silver to come with them and traveled over a mile to the outskirts of Kingsclere, returning with a tale of mischief and feasting in a cottage garden. Blackavar's hearing had weakened since the mutilation of his ears; but Holly found that his power of noticing and drawing conclusions from anything unusual was almost uncanny and that he seemed to be able to become invisible at will.

Sixteen bucks and ten does made a happy enough society for a warren. There was some bickering here and there, but nothing serious. As Bluebell said, any rabbits who felt discontented could always go back to Efrafa; and the thought of all that they had faced together was enough to take the sting out of anything that might have made a real quarrel. The contentment of the does spread to everyone else, until one evening Hazel remarked that he felt a perfect fraud as Chief Rabbit, for there were no problems and hardly a dispute to be settled.

"Have you thought about the winter yet?" asked Holly.

Four or five of the bucks, with Clover, Hyzenthlay and Vilthuril, were feeding along the sunny west side of the hanger about an hour before sunset. It was still hot and the down was so quiet that they could hear the horses tearing the grass in the paddock of Cannon Heath Farm, more than half a mile away. It certainly did not seem a time to think of winter.

"It'll probably be colder up here than any of us have been used to," said Hazel. "But the soil's so light and the roots break it up so much that we can dig a lot deeper before the cold weather comes. I think we ought to be able to get below the frost. As for the wind, we can block some of the holes and sleep warm. Grass is poor in winter, I know; but anyone who wants a change can always go out with Holly here and try his luck at pinching some greenstuff or cattle roots. It's a time of year to be careful of the elil, though. Myself, I shall be quite happy to sleep underground, play bob-stones and hear a few stories from time to time."

"What about a story now?" said Bluebell. "Come on, Dandelion. 'How I Nearly Missed the Boat. What about that?"

"Oh, you mean 'Woundwort Dismayed," said Dandelion. "That's Bigwig's story-I wouldn't presume to tell it. But it makes a change to be thinking about winter on an evening like this. It reminds me of a story I've listened to but never tried to tell myself. So some of you may know it and perhaps some won't. It's the story of Rowsby Woof and the Fairy Wogdog."

"Off you go," said Fiver, "and lay it on thick."

"There was a big rabbit," said Dandelion. "There was a small rabbit. There was El-ahrairah; and he had the frost in his fine new whiskers. The earth up and down the runs of the warren was so hard that you could cut your paws on it, and the robins answered each other across the bare, still copses, 'This is my bit here. You go and starve in your own.

"One evening, when Frith was sinking huge and red in a green sky, El-ahrairah and Rabscuttle limped trembling through the frozen grass, picking a bite here and there to carry them on for another long night underground. The grass was as brittle and tasteless as hay, and although they were hungry, they had been making the best of the miserable stuff so long that it was as much as they could do to get it down. At last Rabscuttle suggested that they might take a risk for once in a way and slip across the fields to the edge of the village, where there was a big vegetable garden.

"This particular garden was bigger than any of the others round about. The man who worked in it lived in a house at one end and he used to dig or cut great quantities of vegetables, put them into a hrududu and drive them away. He had put wire all round the garden to keep rabbits out. All the same, El-ahrairah could usually find a way in if he wanted to; but it was dangerous, because the man had a gun and often shot jays and pigeons and hung them up.

" 'It isn't only the gun we'd be risking, either, said El-ahrairah, thinking it over. 'We'd have to keep an eye open for that confounded Rowsby Woof as well.

"Now, Rowsby Woof was the man's dog; and he was the most objectionable, malicious, disgusting brute that ever licked a man's hand. He was a big, woolly sort of animal with hair all over his eyes and the man kept him to guard the vegetable garden, especially at night. Rowsby Woof, of course, did not eat vegetables himself and anyone might have thought that he would be ready to let a few hungry animals have a lettuce or a carrot now and then and no questions asked. But not a bit of it. Rowsby Woof used to run loose from evening till dawn the next day; and not content with keeping men and boys out of the garden, he would go for any animals he found there-rats, rabbits, hares, mice, even moles-and kill them if he could. The moment he smelled anything in the nature of an intruder he would start barking and kicking up a shine, although very often it was only this foolish noise which warned a rabbit and enabled him to get away in time. Rowsby Woof was reckoned to be a tremendous ratter and his master had boasted about this skill of his so often and showed him off so much that he had become revoltingly conceited. He believed himself to be the finest ratter in the world. He ate a lot of raw meat (but not in the evening, because he was left hungry at night to keep him active) and this made it rather easier to smell him coming. But even so, he made the garden a dangerous place.

" 'Well, let's chance Rowsby Woof for once, said Rabscuttle. 'I reckon you and I ought to be able to give him the slip if we have to.

"El-ahrairah and Rabscuttle made their way across the fields to the outskirts of the garden. When they got there, the first thing they saw was the man himself, with a white stick burning away in his mouth, cutting row after row of frosted cabbages. Rowsby Woof was with him, wagging his tail and jumping about in a ridiculous manner. After a time the man piled as many of the cabbages as he could into a wheel thing and pushed them away to the house. He came back several times and when he had taken all the cabbages to the door of the house he began carrying them inside.

" 'What's he doing that for? asked Rabscuttle.

" 'I suppose he wants to get the frost out of them tonight, replied El-ahrairah, 'before he takes them away in the hrududu tomorrow.

" 'They'd be much better to eat with the frost out of them, wouldn't they? said Rabscuttle. 'I wish we could get at them while they're in there. Still, never mind. Now's our chance. Let's see what we can do up this end of the garden while he's busy down there.

"But hardly had they crossed the top of the garden and got among the cabbages than Rowsby Woof had winded them and down he came, barking and yelping, and they were lucky to get out in time.

" 'Dirty little beasts, shouted Rowsby Woof. 'How-how! How-how dare you come snou-snou-snouting round here? Get out-out! Out-out!

" 'Contemptible brute! said El-ahrairah, as they scurried back to the warren with nothing to show for all their trouble. 'He's really annoyed me. I don't know yet how it's going to be done, but, by Frith and Inlé, before this frost thaws, we'll eat his cabbages inside the house and make him look a fool into the bargain!

" 'That's saying too much, master, said Rabscuttle. 'A pity to throw your life away for a cabbage, after all we've done together.

" 'Well, I shall be watching my chance, said El-ahrairah. 'I shall just be watching my chance, that's all.

"The following afternoon Rabscuttle was out, nosing along the top of the bank beside the lane, when a hrududu came by. It had doors at the back and these doors had somehow come open and were swinging about as the hrududu went along. There were things inside wrapped up in bags like the ones men sometimes leave about the fields; and as the hrududu passed Rabscuttle, one of these bags fell out into the lane. When the hrududu had gone Rabscuttle, who hoped that the bag might have something to eat inside, slipped down into the lane to have a sniff at it. But he was disappointed to find that all it contained was some kind of meat. Later he told El-ahrairah about his disappointment.

" 'Meat? said El-ahrairah. 'Is it still there?

" 'How should I know? said Rabscuttle. 'Beastly stuff.

" 'Come with me, said El-ahrairah. 'Quickly, too.

"When they got to the lane the meat was still there. El-ahrairah dragged the bag into the ditch and they buried it.

" 'But what good will this be to us, master? said Rabscuttle.

" 'I don't know yet, said El-ahrairah. 'But some good it will surely be, if the rats don't get it. Come home now, though. It's getting dark.

"As they were going home, they came on an old black wheel-covering thrown away from a hrududu, lying in the ditch. If you've ever seen these things, you'll know that they're something like a huge fungus-smooth and very strong, but pad-like and yielding too. They smell unpleasant, and are no good to eat.

" 'Come on, said El-ahrairah immediately. 'We have to gnaw off a good chunk of this. I need it.

"Rabscuttle wondered whether his master was going mad, but he did as he was told. The stuff had grown fairly rotten and before long they were able to gnaw off a lump about as big as a rabbifs head. It tasted dreadful, but El-ahrairah carried it carefully back to the warren. He spent a lot of time that night nibbling at it and after morning silflay the next day he continued. About ni-Frith he woke Rabscuttle, made him come outside and put the lump in front of him.

" 'What does that look like? he said. 'Never mind the smell. What does it look like?

"Rabscuttle looked at it. 'It looks rather like a dog's black nose, master, he answered, 'except that it's dry.

" 'Splendid, said El-ahrairah, and went to sleep.

"It was still frosty-very clear and cold-that night, with half a moon, but fu Inlé, when all the rabbits were keeping warm underground, El-ahrairah told Rabscuttle to come with him. El-ahrairah carried the black nose himself and on the way he pushed it well into every nasty thing he could find. He found a-"

"Well, never mind," said Hazel. "Go on with the story."

"In the end," continued Dandelion, "Rabscuttle kept well away from him, but El-ahrairah held his breath and still carried the nose somehow, until they got to the place where they had buried the meat.

" 'Dig it up, said El-ahrairah. 'Come on.

"They dug it up and the paper came off. The meat was all bits joined together in a kind of trail like a spray of bryony, and poor Rabscuttle was told to drag it along to the bottom of the vegetable garden. It was hard work and he was glad when he was able to drop it.

" 'Now, said El-ahrairah, 'we'll go round to the front.

"When they got to the front, they could tell that the man had gone out. For one thing, the house was all dark but, besides, they could smell that he had been through the gate a little while before. The front of the house had a flower garden and this was separated from the back and the vegetable garden by a high, close-boarded fence that ran right across and ended in a big clump of laurels. Just the other side of the fence was the back door that led into the kitchen.

"El-ahrairah and Rabscuttle went quietly through the front garden and peeped through a crack in the fence. Rowsby Woof was sitting on the gravel path, wide awake and shivering in the cold. He was so near that they could see his eyes blink in the moonlight. The kitchen door was shut, but nearby, along the wall, there was a hole above the drain where a brick had been left out. The kitchen floor was made of bricks and the man used to wash it with a rough broom and sweep the water out through the hole. The hole was plugged up with an old cloth to keep out the cold.

"After a little while El-ahrairah said in a low voice,

" 'Rowsby Woof! O Rowsby Woof!

"Rowsby Woof sat up and looked about him, bristling.

" 'Who's there? he said. 'Who are you?

" 'O Rowsby Woof! said El-ahrairah, crouching on the other side of the fence. 'Most fortunate, most blessed Rowsby Woof! Your reward is at hand! I bring you the best news in the world!

" 'What? said Rowsby Woof. 'Who's that? None of your tricks, now!

" 'Tricks, Rowsby Woof? said El-ahrairah. 'Ah, I see you do not know me. But how should you? Listen, faithful, skillful hound. I am the Fairy Wogdog, messenger of the great dog spirit of the East, Queen Dripslobber. Far, far in the East her palace lies. Ah, Rowsby Woof, if only you could see her mighty state, the wonders of her kingdom! The carrion that lies far and wide upon the sands! The manure, Rowsby Woof! The open sewers! Oh, how you would jump for joy and run nosing all about!

"Rowsby Woof got to his feet and looked about in silence. He could not tell what to make of the voice, but he was suspicious.

" 'Your fame as a ratter has come to the ears of the Queen, said El-ahrairah. 'We know you-and honor you-as the greatest ratter in the world. That is why I am here. But poor, bewildered creature! I see you are perplexed, and well you may be. Come here, Rowsby Woof! Come close to the fence and know me better!

"Rowsby Woof came up to the fence and El-ahrairah pushed the rubber nose into the crack and moved it about. Rowsby Woof stood close, sniffing.

" 'Noble rat-catcher, whispered El-ahrairah, 'it is indeed I, the Fairy Wogdog, sent to honor you!

" 'Oh, Fairy Wogdog! cried Rowsby Woof, dribbling and piddling all over the gravel. 'Ah, what elegance! What aristocratic distinction! Can that really be decayed cat that I smell? With a delicate overtone of rotten camel! Ah, the gorgeous East!

("What on earth's 'camel'?" said Bigwig.

"I don't know," replied Dandelion. "But it was in the story when I heard it, so I suppose it's some creature or other.")

" 'Happy, happy dog! said El-ahrairah. 'I must tell you that Queen Dripslobber her very self has expressed her gracious wish that you should meet her. But not yet, Rowsby Woof, not yet. First you must be found worthy. I am sent to bring you both a test and a proof. Listen, Rowsby Woof. Beyond the far end of the garden there lies a long rope of meat. Aye, real meat, Rowsby Woof, for though we are fairy dogs, yet we bring real gifts to noble, brave animals such as you. Go now-find and eat that meat. Trust me, for I will guard the house until you return. That is the test of your belief.

"Rowsby Woof was desperately hungry and the cold had got into his stomach, but still he hesitated. He knew that his master expected him to guard the house.

" 'Ah, well, said El-ahrairah, 'never mind. I will depart. In the next village there lives a dog-

" 'No, no, cried Rowsby Woof. 'No, Fairy Wogdog, do not leave me! I trust you! I will go at once! Only guard the house and do not fail me!

" 'Have no fear, noble hound, said El-ahrairah. 'Only trust the word of the great Queen.

"Rowsby Woof went bounding away in the moonlight and El-ahrairah watched him out of sight.

" 'Are we to go into the house now, master? asked Rabscuttle. 'We shall have to be quick.

" 'Certainly not, said El-ahrairah. 'How could you suggest such double-dealing? For shame, Rabscuttle! We will guard the house.

"They waited silently and after a while Rowsby Woof returned, licking his lips and grinning. He came sniffing up to the fence.

" 'I perceive, honest friend, said El-ahrairah, 'that you found the meat as swiftly as though it had been a rat. The house is safe and all is well. Now hark. I shall return to the Queen and tell her of all that has passed. It was her gracious purpose that if you showed yourself worthy tonight, by trusting her messenger, she would herself send for you and honor you. Tomorrow night she will be passing through this land on her way to the Wolf Festival of the North and she means to break her journey in order that you may appear before her. Be ready, Rowsby Woof!

" 'Oh, Fairy Wogdog! cried Rowsby Woof. 'What joy it will be to grovel and abase myself before the Queen! How humbly I shall roll upon the ground! How utterly shall I make myself her slave! What menial cringing will be mine! I will show myself a true dog!

" 'I do not doubt it, said El-ahrairah. 'And now, farewell. Be patient and await my return!

"He withdrew the rubber nose and very quietly they crept away.

"The following night was, if anything, still colder. Even El-ahrairah had to pull himself together before he could set out over the fields. They had hidden the rubber nose outside the garden and it took them some time to get it ready for Rowsby Woof. When they had made sure that the man had gone out, they went cautiously into the front garden and up to the fence. Rowsby Woof was padding up and down outside the back door, his breath steaming in the frosty air. When El-ahrairah spoke, he put his head on the ground between his front paws and whined for joy.

" 'The Queen is coming, Rowsby Woof, said El-ahrairah from behind the nose, 'with her noble attendants, the fairies Postwiddle and Sniffbottom. And this is her wish. You know the crossroads in the village, do you not?

" 'Yes, yes! whined Rowsby Woof. 'Yes, yes! Oh, let me show how abject I can be, dear Fairy Wogdog. I will-

" 'Very well, said El-ahrairah. 'Now, O fortunate dog, go to the crossroads and await the Queen. She is coming on the wings of night. It is far that she must come, but wait patiently. Only wait. Do not fail her and great blessing will be yours,

" 'Fail her? No, no! cried Rowsby Woof. 'I will wait like a worm upon the road. Her beggar am I, Fairy Wogdog! Her mendicant, her idiot, her-

" 'Quite right, most excellent, said El-ahrairah. 'Only make haste.

"As soon as Rowsby Woof had gone, El-ahrairah and Rabscuttle went quickly through the laurels, round the end of the fence and along to the back door. El-ahrairah pulled the cloth out of the hole above the drain with his teeth and led the way into the kitchen.

"The kitchen was as warm as this bank and at one end was a great pile of vegetables ready for the hrududu in the morning-cabbages, brussels sprouts and parsnips. They were thawed out and the delicious smell was quite overpowering. El-ahrairah and Rabscuttle began at once to make amends for the past days of frozen grass and tree bark.

" 'Good, faithful fellow, said El-ahrairah with his mouth full. 'How grateful he will be to the Queen for keeping him waiting. He will be able to show her the full extent of his loyalty, won't he? Have another parsnip, Rabscuttle.

"Meanwhile, down at the crossroads, Rowsby Woof waited eagerly in the frost, listening for the coming of Queen Dripslobber. After a long time he heard footsteps. They were not the steps of a dog but of a man. As they came near, he realized that they were the steps of his own master. He was too stupid to run away or hide, but merely remained where he was until his master-who was returning home-came up to the crossroads.

" 'Why, Rowsby Woof, said his master, 'what are you doing here?

"Rowsby Woof looked foolish and nosed about. His master was puzzled. Then a thought came to him.

" 'Why, good old chap, he said, 'you came to meet me, did you? Good fellow, then! Come on, we'll go home together.

"Rowsby Woof tried to slip away, but his master grabbed him by the collar, tied him by a bit of string he had in his pocket and led him home.

"Their arrival took El-ahrairah by surprise. It fact, he was so busy stuffing cabbage that he heard nothing until the doorhandle rattled. He and Rabscuttle had only just time to slip behind a pile of baskets before the man came in, leading Rowsby Woof. Rowsby Woof was quiet and dejected and did not even notice the smell of rabbit, which anyway was all mixed up with the smell of the fire and the larder. He lay on the mat while the man made some sort of drink for himself.

"El-ahrairah was watching his chance to dash out of the hole in the wall. But the man, as he sat drinking and puffing away at a white stick, suddenly looked round and got up. He had noticed the draft coming in through the open hole. To the rabbits' horror, he picked up a sack and plugged the hole up very tightly indeed. Then he finished his drink, made up the fire and went away to sleep, leaving Rowsby Woof shut in the kitchen. Evidently he thought it too cold to turn him out for the night.

"At first Rowsby Woof whined and scratched at the door, but after a time he came back to the mat by the fire and lay down. El-ahrairah moved very quietly along the wall until he was behind a big metal box in the corner under the sink. There were sacks and old papers here, too, and he felt fairly sure that Rowsby Woof could not manage to see behind it. As soon as Rabscuttle had joined him, he spoke.

" 'O Rowsby Woof! whispered El-ahrairah.

"Rowsby Woof was up in a flash.

" 'Fairy Wogdog! he cried. 'Is that you I hear?

" 'It is indeed, said El-ahrairah. 'I am sorry for your disappointment, Rowsby Woof. You did not meet the Queen.

" 'Alas, no, said Rowsby Woof: and he told what had happened at the crossroads.

" 'Never mind, said El-ahrairah. Do not be downhearted, Rowsby Woof. There was good reason why the Queen did not come. She received news of danger-ah, great danger, Rowsby Woof! — and avoided it in time. I myself am here at the risk of my own safety to warn you. You are lucky indeed that I am your friend, for otherwise your good master must have been stricken with mortal plague.

" 'With plague? cried Rowsby Woof. 'Oh, how, good fairy?

" 'Many fairies and spirits there are in the animal kingdoms of the East, said El-ahrairah. 'Some are friends and there are those-may misfortune strike them down-who are our deadly enemies. Worst of them all, Rowsby Woof, is the great rat spirit, the giant of Sumatra, the curse of Hamelin. He dares not openly fight our noble Queen, but he works by stealth, by poison, by disease. Soon after you left me, I learned that he has sent his hateful rat goblins through the clouds, carrying sickness. I warned the Queen; but still I remained here, Rowsby Woof, to warn you. If the sickness falls-and the goblins are very near-it will harm not you, but your master it will slay-and me, too, I fear. You can save him, and you alone. I cannot.

" 'Oh, horror! cried Rowsby Woof. 'There is no time to be lost! What must I do, Fairy Wogdog?

" 'The sickness works by a spell, said El-ahrairah. 'But if a real dog of flesh and blood could run four times round the house, barking as loudly as he could, then the spell would be broken and the sickness would have no power. But alas! I forgot! You are shut in, Rowsby Woof. What is to be done? I fear that all is lost!

" 'No, no! said Rowsby Woof. 'I will save you, Fairy Wogdog, and my dear master, too. Leave it to me!

"Rowsby Woof began to bark. He barked to raise the dead. The windows shook. The coal fell in the grate. The noise was terrifying. They could hear the man upstairs, shouting and cursing. Still Rowsby Woof barked. The man came stamping down. He flung open the window and listened for thieves, but he could hear nothing, partly because there was nothing to hear and partly because of the ceaseless barking. At last he picked up his gun, flung open the door and went cautiously out to see what was the matter. Out shot Rowsby Woof, bellowing like a bull, land tore around the house. The man followed him at a run, leaving the door wide.

" 'Quick! said El-ahrairah. 'Quicker than Wogdog from the Tartar's bow! Come on!

"El-ahrairah and Rabscuttle dashed into the garden and disappeared through the laurels. In the field beyond they paused for a moment. From behind came the sounds of yelping and woofing, mixed with shouts and angry cries of 'Come 'ere, damn you!

" 'Noble fellow, said El-ahrairah. 'He has saved his master, Rabscuttle. He has saved us all. Let us go home and sleep sound in our burrow.

"For the rest of his life Rowsby Woof never forgot the night when he had waited for the great Dog Queen. True, it was a disappointment, but this, he felt, was a small matter, compared with the recollection of his own noble conduct and of how he had saved both his master and the good fairy Wogdog from the wicked rat spirit."

42. News at Sunset

As he came to the end of his story, Dandelion remembered that he was supposed to be relieving Acorn as sentry. The post was a little way away, near the eastern corner of the wood, and Hazel-who wanted to see how Boxwood and Speedwell were getting on with a hole they were digging-went with Dandelion along the foot of the bank. He was just going down the new hole when he noticed that some small creature was pattering about in the grass. It was the mouse that he had saved from the kestrel. Pleased to see that he was still safe and sound, Hazel turned back to have a word with him. The mouse recognized him and sat up, washing his face with his front paws and chattering effusively.

"Is a good a days, a hot a days. You like? Plenty for eata, keepa warm is a no trouble. Down in a bottom a hill is a harvest. I go for a corn a, but is a long a way. I tink a you go away, is a not a long a you come a back, yes?"

"Yes," said Hazel, "a lot of us went away, but we found what we were looking for and now we've come back for good."

"Is a good. Is a lots of rabbits a now, keepa grass a short."

"What difference does it make to him if the grass is short?" said Bigwig, who, with Blackavar, was lolloping and nibbling close by. "He doesn't eat it."

"Is a good a for get about, you know?" said the mouse in a familiar tone which made Bigwig shake his ears with irritation. "Is a run along the queek-but is a no seeds a from a short a grass. Now is a warren a here and now a today is a new a rabbits a come, soon is another warren a more. New rabbits is a your friends a too?"

"Yes, yes, all friends," said Bigwig, turning away. "There was something I wanted to say, Hazel, about the newborn rabbits, when they're ready to come above ground."

Hazel, however, had remained where he was, looking intently at the mouse.

"Wait a moment, Bigwig," he said. "What did you say, mouse, about another warren? Where is there going to be another warren?"

The mouse was surprised. "You not a know? Not a your friends?"

"I don't know until you tell me. What did you mean about new rabbits and another warren soon?" His tone was urgent and inquisitive.

The mouse became nervous and, after the manner of his kind, began to say what he thought the rabbits would like to hear.

"Maybe is a no warren. Is a plenty good a rabbits 'ere, is all a my friends. Is a no more rabbits. Not a for want other rabbits."

"But what other rabbits?" persisted Hazel.

"No, sir. No, sir, no other rabbits, is a not a go for soon a rabbits, all stay 'ere are my friends, a save a me a very good a my life, zen 'ow can I if a she mek me?" twittered the mouse.

Hazel considered this lot briefly, but it beat him.

"Oh, come on, Hazel," said Bigwig. "Let the poor little beast alone. I want to talk to you."

Hazel ignored him. Going close to the mouse, he bent his head and spoke quietly and firmly.

"You've often said you're our friend," he said. "If you are, tell me, and don't be afraid, what you know about other rabbits coming."

The mouse looked confused. Then he said, "I not see other rabbits, sir, but a my brother 'e say yellowhammer say is a new rabbits, plenty, plenty rabbits, come to combe over on a morning side. Maybe is a lots a rubbish. I tell you a wrong, you no like a mouse for more, not a friend a more."

"No, that's all right," said Hazel. "Don't worry. Just tell me again. Where did the bird say these new rabbits were?"

" 'E say is a come just a now on a morning side. I not a see."

"Good fellow," said Hazel. "That's very helpful." He turned back to the others. "What d'you make of this, Bigwig?" he asked.

"Not much," answered Bigwig. "Long-grass rumors. These little creatures say anything and change it five times a day. Ask him again fu Inlé-he'll tell you something else."

"If you're right, then I'm wrong and we can all forget it," said Hazel. "But I'm going to get to the bottom of this. Someone must go and see. I'd go myself, but I've got no speed with this leg."

"Well, leave it for tonight, anyway," said Bigwig. "We can-"

"Someone must go and see," repeated Hazel firmly. "A good patroller, too. Blackavar, go and get Holly for me, will you?"

"I'm here, as it happens," said Holly, who had come along the top of the bank while Hazel was speaking. "What's the trouble, Hazel-rah?"

"There's a rumor of strangers on the down, on the morning side," replied Hazel, "and I wish I knew more. Can you and Blackavar run over that way-say, as far as the top of the combe-and find out what's going on?"

"Yes, of course, Hazel-rah," said Holly. "If there really are some other rabbits there, we'd better bring them back with us, hadn't we? We could do with a few more."

"It depends who they are," said Hazel. "That's what I want to find out. Go at once, Holly, will you? Somehow it worries me not to know."

Holly and Blackavar had hardly set off when Speedwell appeared above ground. He had an excited, triumphant look which attracted everyone's attention immediately. He squatted in front of Hazel and looked round him in silence, to make sure of his effect.

"You've finished the hole?" asked Hazel.

"Never mind the hole," answered Speedwell. "I didn't come up to say that. Clover's had her litter. All good, healthy kittens. Three bucks and three does, she says."

"You'd better go up in the beech tree and sing that," said Hazel. "See that everybody knows! But tell them not to go crowding down disturbing her."

"I shouldn't think they would," said Bigwig. "Who'd be a kitten again, or even want to see one-blind and deaf and no fur?"

"Some of the does may want to see them," said Hazel. "They're excited, you know. But we don't want Clover disturbed into eating them or anything miserable like that."

"It looks as though we really are going to live a natural life again at last, doesn't it?" said Bigwig, as they browsed their way along the bank. "What a summer it's been! I keep dreaming I'm back in Efrafa, you know; but it'll pass off, I suppose. One thing I brought back out of that place, though, and that's the value of keeping a warren hidden. As we get bigger, Hazel, we ought to take care of that. We'll do better than Efrafa, though. When we've reached the right size, rabbits can be encouraged to leave."

"Well, don't you leave," said Hazel, "or I'll tell Kehaar to bring you back by the scruff of the neck. I'm relying on you to produce us a really good Owsla."

"It's certainly something to look forward to," said Bigwig. "Take a pack of young fellows across to the farm and chase the cats out of the barn to get an appetite. Well, it'll come. I say, this grass is as dry as horsehair on barbed wire, isn't it? What about a run down the hill to the fields-just you and I and Fiver? Corn's been cut, you know, and there should be good pickings. I expect they're going to burn off the field, but they haven't done it yet."

"No, we must wait a bit," said Hazel. "I want to hear what Holly and Blackavar have to say when they come in."

"That needn't keep you long," replied Bigwig. "Here they come already, unless I'm much mistaken. Straight down the open track, too! Not bothered about keeping hidden, are they? What a rate they're going!"

"There's something wrong," said Hazel, staring at the approaching rabbits.

Holly and Blackavar reached the long shadow of the wood at top speed, as though they were being pursued. The watchers expected them to slow down as they came to the bank, but they kept straight on and appeared actually to be going to run underground. At the last moment Holly stopped, looked about him and stamped twice. Blackavar disappeared down the nearest hole. At the stamping, all the rabbits above ground ran for cover.

"Here, wait a minute," said Hazel, pushing past Pipkin and Hawkbit as they came across the grass. "Holly, what's the alarm? Tell us something, instead of stamping the place to pieces. What's happened?"

"Get the holes filled in!" gasped Holly. "Get everyone underground! There's not a moment to lose." His eyes rolled white and he panted foam over his chin.

"Is it men, or what? There's nothing to be seen, heard or smelled. Come on, tell us something and stop gibbering, there's a good chap."

"It'll have to be quick, then," said Holly. "That combe-it's full of rabbits from Efrafa."

"From Efrafa? Fugitives, do you mean?"

"No," said Holly, "not fugitives. Campion's there. We ran right into him and three or four more that Blackavar recognized. I believe Woundwort's there himself. They've come for us-don't make any mistake about that."

"You're sure it's more than a patrol?"

"I'm certain," answered Holly. "We could smell them; and we heard them, too-below us in the combe. We wondered what so many rabbits could be doing there and we were going down to see when we suddenly came face to face with Campion. We looked at him and he looked at us and then I realized what it must mean and we turned and ran. He didn't follow us-probably because he'd had no orders. But how long will it take them to get here?"

Blackavar had returned from underground, bringing Silver and Blackberry.

"We ought to leave at once, sir," he said to Hazel. "We might be able to get quite a long way before they come."

Hazel looked about him. "Anyone who wants to go can go," he said. "I shan't. We made this warren ourselves and Frith only knows what we've been through on account of it. I'm not going to leave it now."

"Neither am I," said Bigwig. "If I'm for the Black Rabbit, there's one or two from Efrafa will come with me."

There was a short silence.

"Holly's right to want to stop the holes," went on Hazel. "It's the best thing to do. We fill the holes in, good and thorough. Then they have to dig us out. The warren's deep. It's under a bank, with tree roots all through it and over the top. How long can all those rabbits stay on the down without attracting elil? They'll have to give it up."

"You don't know these Efrafans," said Blackavar. "My mother used to tell me what happened at Nutley Copse. It would be better to go now."

"Well, go on, then," answered Hazel. "I'm not stopping you. And I'm not leaving this warren. It's my home." He looked at Hyzenthlay, heavy with young, who was sitting in the mouth of the nearest hole and listening to the talk. "How far do you think she'll get? And Clover-do we leave her or what?"

"No, we must stay," said Strawberry. "I believe El-ahrairah will save us from this Woundwort; and if he doesn't, I'm not going back to Efrafa, I'll tell you that."

"Fill in the holes," said Hazel.

As the sun set, the rabbits fell to clawing and scrabbling in the runs. The sides were hard with the hot weather. It was not easy to get started, and when the soil began to fall, it was light and powdery and did little to block the holes. It was Blackberry who hit upon the idea of working outward from inside the Honeycomb itself, scratching down the ceilings of the runs where they came into the meeting hall and blocking the holes by breaking the underground walls into them. One run, leading up into the wood, was left open for coming and going. It was the one where Kehaar used to shelter and the lobby at the mouth was still cluttered with guano. As Hazel passed the place, it occurred to him that Woundwort did not know that Kehaar had left them. He dug out as much of the mess as he could and scattered it about. Then, as the work went on below, he squatted on the bank and watched the darkening eastern skyline.

His thoughts were very sad. Indeed, they were desperate. Although he had spoken resolutely in front of the others, he knew only too well how little hope there was of saving the warren from the Efrafans. They knew what they were doing. No doubt they had their methods of breaking into a closed warren. It was the faintest of chances that elil would disperse them. Most of the Thousand hunted rabbits for food. A stoat or a fox took a rabbit and took no more until it was ready to hunt again. But the Efrafans were accustomed to a death here and there. Unless General Woundwort himself were killed, they would stay until the job was done. Nothing would stop them, short of some unexpected catastrophe.

But suppose that he himself were to go and talk to Woundwort? Might there not just possibly be a chance of getting him to see sense? Whatever had happened at Nutley Copse, the Efrafans could not fight to the finish against rabbits like Bigwig, Holly and Silver without losing lives-probably a good many lives. Woundwort must know this. Perhaps it might not be too late, even now, to persuade him to agree to a new plan-a plan that would be as good for one warren as the other.

"And perhaps it might be," thought Hazel grimly. "But it's a possible chance and so I'm afraid the Chief Rabbit has got to take it. And since this savage brute is probably not to be trusted, I suppose the Chief Rabbit must go alone."

He returned to the Honeycomb and found Bigwig.

"I'm off to talk to General Woundwort, if I can get hold of him," he said. "You're Chief Rabbit until I come back. Keep them at it."

"But, Hazel," said Bigwig, "wait a moment. It's not safe-"

"I shan't be long," said Hazel. "I'm just going to ask him what he's up to."

A moment later he was down the bank and limping up the track, pausing from time to time to sit up and look about him for an Efrafan patrol.

43. The Great Patrol

When the punt floated down the river in the rain, part of General Woundwort's authority went with it. He could not have appeared more openly and completely at a loss if Hazel and his companions had flown away over the trees. Until that very moment he had shown up strongly, a most formidable adversary. His officers had been demoralized by Kehaar's unexpected attack. He had not. On the contrary, he had kept up the pursuit in spite of Kehaar and had actually carried out a scheme to cut off the fugitives' retreat. Cunning and resourceful in adversity, he had nearly succeeded in hurting the gull when he leaped at him out of the close cover by the plank bridge. Then, when he had his quarry cornered in a place where Kehaar could not have done a great deal to help them, they had suddenly shown their own cunning greater than his, and left him bewildered on the bank. He had overheard the very word-tharn-spoken by one of his officers to another as they returned to Efrafa through the rain. Thlayli, Blackavar and the does of the Near Hind had vanished. He had tried to stop them and he had conspicuously failed.

For a great part of that night Woundwort remained awake, considering what was best to be done. The following day he called a Council meeting. He pointed out that it would be no good taking an expedition down the river to look for Thlayli unless it were strong enough to defeat him if it found him. That would mean taking several officers and a number of the Owsla. There would be the risk of trouble at home while they were away. There might be another break-out. The odds were that they would not find Thlayli at all, for there would be no trail and they did not know where to search for him. If they did not find him, they would look even bigger fools when they came back.

"And fools we look now," said Woundwort. "Make no mistake about that. Vervain will tell you what the Marks are saying-that Campion was chased into the ditch by the white bird and Thlayli called down lightning from the sky and Frith knows what besides."

"The best thing," said old Snowdrop, "will be to say as little about it as possible. Let it blow over. They've got short memories."

"There's one thing I think worth doing," said Woundwort. "We know now that there was one place where we did find Thlayli and his gang, only nobody realized it at the time. That was when Mallow was after them with his patrol, just before he was killed by the fox. Something tells me that where they were once, there they'll be again, sooner or later.

"But we can hardly stay out there with enough rabbits to fight them, sir," said Groundsel, "and it would mean digging in and living there for some time."

"I agree with you," replied Woundwort. "A patrol will be stationed there continuously until further notice. They'll dig scrapes and live there. They'll be relieved every two days. If Thlayli comes, he's to be watched and followed secretly. When we know where he's taken the does, then we may be able to deal with him. And I'll tell you this," he ended, glaring round at them with his great, pale eyes. "If we do find out where he is, I shall be ready to go to a great deal of trouble. I told Thlayli I'd kill him myself. He may have forgotten that, but I haven't."

Woundwort led the first patrol in person, taking Groundsel to show him where Mallow had picked up the strangers' southward trail. They dug scrapes among the scrub along the edge of Caesar's Belt and waited. After two days their hopes were lower. Vervain relieved Woundwort. He was relieved two days later by Campion. By this time there were captains in the Owsla who said privately to each other that the General was in the grip of an obsession. Some way would have to be found of getting him to drop it before it went too far. At the Council meeting the next evening it was suggested that the patrol should be discontinued in two days' time. Woundwort, snarling, told them to wait and see. An argument began, behind which he sensed more opposition than he had ever encountered before. In the middle of this, with a dramatic effect that could not have been better timed from the General's point of view, Campion and his patrol came in, dead beat, with the report that they had met Thlayli and his rabbits exactly where Woundwort had said they would. Unseen, they had followed them to the warren, which, though a long way off, was not too distant to be attacked, especially since no time would have to be spent in searching for it. It did not appear to be very large and could probably be surprised.

The news put an end to all opposition and brought both Council and Owsla back under Woundwort's undisputed control. Several of the officers were for starting at once, but Woundwort, now that he was sure of his followers and his enemy, took his time. Having learned from Campion that he had actually come face to face with Thlayli, Blackavar and the rest, he decided to wait some little while, in case they might be on their guard. Besides, he wanted time both to reconnoiter the way to Watership and to organize the expedition. His idea was that, if possible, they should make the journey in one day. This would forestall any possible rumors of their approach. To satisfy himself that they could do this and still be fit to fight when they arrived, he took Campion and two others, and himself covered the three and a half miles to the down east of Watership. Here, he grasped at once the best way to approach the beech hanger without being seen or smelled. The prevailing wind was westerly, as at Efrafa. They would arrive at evening and then assemble and rest in the combe south of Cannon Heath Down. As soon as twilight fell and Thlayli and his rabbits had gone underground, they would come along the ridge and attack the warren. With luck, there would be no warning whatever. They would be safe for the night in the captured warren and the following day he himself and Vervain would be able to return to Efrafa. The remainder, under Campion, could have a day's rest and then make their way back with the does and any other prisoners there might be. The whole thing could be finished in three days.

It would be best not to take too many rabbits. Anyone not strong enough to go the distance and then fight would only be a nuisance. In the event, speed might turn out to be everything. The slower the journey, the more dangerous it would be, and stragglers would attract elil and discourage the rest. Besides, as Woundwort very well knew, his leadership was going to be vital. Every rabbit would need to feel that he was close to the General; and if he felt himself one of a picked band as well, that would be all to the good.

The rabbits to go were chosen most carefully. There were in fact about twenty-six or — seven of them, half Owsla and the rest promising youngsters recommended by their Mark officers. Woundwort believed in emulation and he let it be known that there would be plenty of chances to win rewards. Campion and Chervil were kept busy taking out endurance patrols, and tussles and training fights were organized at morning silflay. The members of the expedition were excused all sentry duties and allowed to silflay whenever they wished.

They started before dawn one clear August morning, going due north in groups along the banks and hedges. Before they had reached the Belt, Groundsel's party was attacked by a pair of stoats, one old and the other a yearling. Woundwort, hearing the squealing from behind him, covered the distance in a few moments and set upon the veteran stoat with slashing teeth and great kicks from his needle-clawed back paws. With one of its forelegs ripped to the shoulder, it turned and made off, the younger one following.

"You ought to be able to see to these things yourself," said Woundwort to Groundsel. "Stoats aren't dangerous. Come on."

Shortly after ni-Frith, Woundwort went back to pick up stragglers. He found three, one injured by a piece of glass. He stopped the bleeding, brought the three up to rejoin their groups and then called a halt to rest and feed, himself keeping a watch round about. It was very hot and some of the rabbits were showing signs of exhaustion. Woundwort formed these into a separate group and took charge of it himself.

By the early evening-about the same time as Dandelion was beginning the story of Rowsby Woof-the Efrafans had skirted an enclosure of pigs east of Cannon Heath Farm and were slipping into the combe south of Cannon Heath Down. Many were tired and, in spite of their tremendous respect for Woundwort, there was a certain feeling that they had come a long way from home. They were ordered to take cover, feed, rest and wait for sunset.

The place was deserted, except for yellowhammers and a few mice pattering about in the sun. Some of the rabbits went to sleep in the long grass. The slope was already in shadow when Campion came running down with the news that he had come face to face with Blackavar and Holly in the upper part of the combe.

Woundwort was annoyed. "What made them come traipsing over here, I wonder?" he said. "Couldn't you have killed them? Now we've lost surprise."

"I'm sorry, sir," said Campion. "I wasn't really alert at the time and I'm afraid they were a bit too quick for me. I didn't pursue them because I wasn't sure whether you'd want me to."

"Well, it may not make much difference," said Woundwort. "I don't see what they can do. But they'll try to do something, I suppose, now they know we're here."

As he went among his rabbits, looking them over and encouraging them, Woundwort considered the situation. One thing was clear-there was no longer the chance of catching Thlayli and the rest off their guard. But perhaps they were already so much frightened that they would not fight at all? The bucks might give up the does to save their own lives. Or they might already be on the run, in which case they must be followed and caught at once, for they were fresh and his own rabbits were tired and could not pursue them far. He ought to find out quickly. He turned to a young rabbit of the Neck Mark who was feeding close at hand.

"Your name's Thistle, isn't it?" he asked.

"Thistle, sir," answered the rabbit.

"Well, you're the very fellow I want," said Woundwort. "Go and find Captain Campion and tell him to meet me up there by that juniper-do you see where I mean? — at once. You'd better come there, too. Be quick: there's no time to lose."

As soon as Campion and Thistle had joined him, Woundwort took them up to the ridge. He meant to see what was happening over at the beech hanger. If the enemy were already in flight, Thistle could be sent back with a message to Groundsel and Vervain to bring everyone up immediately. If they were not, he would see what threats could do.

They reached the track above the combe and began to make their way along it with some caution, since the sunset was in their eyes. The light west wind carried a fresh smell of rabbits.

"If they are running, they haven't gone far," said Woundwort. "But I don't think they are running. I think they're still in their warren."

At that moment a rabbit came out of the grass and sat up in the middle of the track. He paused for a few moments and then moved toward them. He was limping and had a strained, resolute look.

"You're General Woundwort, aren't you?" said the rabbit. "I've come to talk to you."

"Did Thlayli send you?" asked Woundwort.

"I'm a friend of Thlayli," replied the rabbit. "I've come to ask why you're here and what it is you want."

"Were you on the riverbank in the rain?" said Woundwort.

"Yes, I was."

"What was left unfinished there will be finished now," said Woundwort. "We are going to destroy you."

"You won't find it easy," replied the other. "You'll take fewer rabbits home than you brought. We should both do better to come to terms."

"Very well," said Woundwort. "These are the terms. You will give back all the does who ran from Efrafa and you will hand over the deserters Thlayli and Blackavar to my Owsla."

"No, we can't agree to that. I've come to suggest something altogether different and better for us both. A rabbit has two ears; a rabbit has two eyes, two nostrils. Our two warrens ought to be like that. They ought to be together-not fighting. We ought to make other warrens between us-start one between here and Efrafa, with rabbits from both sides. You wouldn't lose by that, you'd gain. We both would. A lot of your rabbits are unhappy now and it's all you can do to control them, but with this plan you'd soon see a difference. Rabbits have enough enemies as it is. They ought not to make more among themselves. A mating between free, independent warrens-what do you say?"

At that moment, in the sunset on Watership Down, there was offered to General Woundwort the opportunity to show whether he was really the leader of vision and genius which he believed himself to be, or whether he was no more than a tyrant with the courage and cunning of a pirate. For one beat of his pulse the lame rabbit's idea shone clearly before him. He grasped it and realized what it meant. The next, he had pushed it away from him. The sun dipped into the cloud bank and now he could see clearly the track along the ridge, leading to the beech hanger and the bloodshed for which he had prepared with so much energy and care.

"I haven't time to sit here talking nonsense," said Woundwort. "You're in no position to bargain with us. There's nothing more to be said. Thistle, go back and tell Captain Vervain I want everyone up here at once."

"And this rabbit, sir," asked Campion. "Shall I kill him?"

"No," replied Woundwort. "Since they've sent him to ask our terms, he'd better take them back.-Go and tell Thlayli that if the does aren't waiting outside your warren, with him and Blackavar, by the time I get down there, I'll tear the throat out of every buck in the place by ni-Frith tomorrow."

The lame rabbit seemed about to reply, but Woundwort had already turned away and was explaining to Campion what he was to do. Neither of them bothered to watch the lame rabbit as he limped back by the way he had come.

44. A Message from El-ahrairah

"They've stopped digging, Hazel-rah," said Speedwell. "As far as I can tell, there's no one in the hole."

In the close darkness of the Honeycomb, Hazel pushed past three or four of his rabbits crouching among the tree roots and reached the higher shelf where Speedwell lay listening for sounds from above. The Efrafans had reached the hanger at early twilight and at once begun a search along the banks and among the trees to find out how big the warren was and where its holes were. They had been surprised to find so many holes in such a small area, for not many of them had had experience of any warren but Efrafa, where very few holes served the needs of many rabbits. At first they had supposed that there must be a large number of rabbits underground. The silence and emptiness of the open beechwood made them suspicious, and most kept outside, nervous of an ambush. Woundwort had to reassure them. Their enemies, he explained, were fools who made more runs than any properly organized warren needed. They would soon discover their mistake, for every one would be opened, until the place became impossible to defend. As for the droppings of the white bird, scattered in the wood, it was plain that they were old. There were no signs whatever that the bird was anywhere near. Nevertheless, many of the rank and file continued to look cautiously about them. At the sudden cry of a peewit on the down, one or two bolted and had to be brought back by their officers. The story of the bird which had fought for Thlayli in the storm had lost nothing in the telling up and down the burrows of Efrafa.

Woundwort told Campion to post sentries and keep a patrol round about, while Vervain and Groundsel tackled the blocked holes. Groundsel set to work along the bank, while Vervain went into the wood, where the mouths of the holes lay between the tree roots. He came at once upon the open run. He listened, but all was quiet. Vervain (who was more used to dealing with prisoners than with enemies) ordered two of his rabbits to make their way down it. The discovery of the silent, open run gave him the hope that he might be able to seize the warren by a sudden dash to the very center. The wretched rabbits, obeying his orders, were met by Silver and Buckthorn at a point where the run opened out. They were cuffed and mauled and barely got out with their lives. The sight of them did nothing to encourage Vervain's party, who were reluctant to dig and made little headway during the darkness before moonrise.

Groundsel, who felt that he ought to set an example, himself dug his way into the loose, fallen soil of one of the bank runs. Plowing over the soft earth like a fly on summer butter and holding his head clear, he suddenly found himself face to face with Blackavar, who sank his front teeth into his throat. Groundsel, with no freedom to use his weight, screamed and kicked out as best he could. Blackavar hung on and Groundsel-a heavy rabbit, like all the Efrafan officers-dragged him forward a short distance before he could rid himself of his grip. Blackavar spat out a mouthful of fur and jumped clear, clawing with his front paws. But Groundsel had already gone. He was lucky not to have been more severely wounded.

It became clear to Woundwort that it was going to be extremely difficult, if not impossible, to take the warren by attack down the defended runs. There would be a good chance of success if several runs could be opened and then tackled at the same time, but he doubted whether his rabbits would attempt it, after what they had seen. He realized that he had not given enough thought, earlier on, to what he would have to do if he lost surprise and had to force an entry: he had better give it some thought now. As the moon rose, he called Campion in and talked it over with him. Campion's suggestion was that they should simply starve the warren out. The weather was warm and dry and they could easily stay two or three days. This Woundwort rejected impatiently. In his own mind, he was not altogether certain that daylight might not bring the white bird down upon them. They ought to be underground by dawn. But, apart from this secret anxiety, he felt that his reputation depended on a fighting victory. He had brought his Owsla to get at these rabbits, knock them down and beat them. A siege would be a miserable anti-climax. Also, he wanted to get back to Efrafa as soon as he could. Like most warlords, he was never very confident about what was going on behind his back.

"If I remember rightly," he said, "after the main part of the warren at Nutley Copse was taken and the fighting was as good as over, there were a few rabbits who shut themselves into a smaller burrow where it was difficult to get at them. I said they were to be dealt with and then I went back to Efrafa with the prisoners. How were they dealt with and who did it, do you know?"

"Captain Mallow did it," said Campion. "He's dead, of course; but I expect there's someone here who was with him. I'll go and find out."

He returned with a heavy, stolid Owsla sentry named Ragwort, who at first had some difficulty in understanding what it was that the General wanted to know. At last, however, he said that when he had been with Captain Mallow, more than a year ago, the Captain had told them to dig a hole straight down into the ground. In the end the earth had given way under them and they had fallen down among some rabbits, whom they had fought and beaten.

"Well, that's about the only way it can be done," said Woundwort to Campion. "And if we get them all onto it, relieving each other in shifts, we should have a way into the place before dawn. You'd better get your sentries out again-not more than two or three-and we'll make a start at once."

Soon after, Hazel and his rabbits, below in the Honeycomb, heard the first sounds of scratching above. It was not long before they realized that the digging was going on at two points. One was at the north end of the Honeycomb, above the place where the tree roots formed a kind of cloister in the burrow. Here the roof, latticed through and through with fine roots, was very strong. The other seemed to be more or less above the open center of the Honeycomb, but rather nearer to the south end, where the hall broke up into bays and runs with columns of earth between. Beyond these runs lay several of the warren's burrows. One, lined with fur torn from her own belly, contained Clover and the pile of grass and leaves, covered over with earth, in which her newborn litter were sleeping.

"Well, we seem to be putting them to a great deal of trouble," said Hazel. "That's all to the good. It'll blunt their claws and I should think they'll be tired out before they've done. What do you make of it, Blackberry?"

"I'm afraid it's a bad lookout, Hazel-rah," replied Blackberry. "It's true they're in trouble up at the top end. There's a lot of ground above us there and the roots will hold them up for a long time. But down this end it's easier for them. They're bound to dig through fairly soon. Then the roof will come in; and I can't see that we can do anything to stop them."

Hazel could feel him trembling as he spoke. As the sounds of digging continued, he sensed fear spreading all through the burrow. "They'll take us back to Efrafa," whispered Vilthuril to Thethuthinnang. "The warren police-"

"Be quiet," said Hyzenthlay. "The bucks aren't talking like that and why should we? I'd rather be here now, as we are, than never have left Efrafa."

It was bravely said, but Hazel was not the only one who could tell her thoughts. Bigwig remembered the night in Efrafa when he had calmed her by talking of the high downs and the certainty of their escape. In the dark, he nuzzled Hazel's shoulder and pressed him over to one side of the wide burrow.

"Listen, Hazel," he said, "we're not finished yet. Not by a long way. When the roof breaks, they'll come down into this end of the Honeycomb. But we can get everybody back into the sleeping burrows behind and block the runs that lead to them. They'll be no better off."

"Well, if we do that, it'll last a bit longer," said Hazel. "But they'll soon be able to break into the sleeping burrows, once they're in here."

"They'll find me there when they do," said Bigwig, "and one or two more besides. I shouldn't wonder if they didn't decide to go home."

With a kind of wry envy, Hazel realized that Bigwig was actually looking forward to meeting the Efrafan assault. He knew he could fight and he meant to show it. He was not thinking of anything else. The hopelessness of their chances had no important place in his thoughts. Even the sound of the digging, clearer already, only set him thinking of the best way to sell his life as dearly as he could. But what else was there for any of them to do? At least Bigwig's preparations would keep the others busy and perhaps do something to dispel the silent fear that filled all the warren.

"You're quite right, Bigwig," he said. "Let's prepare a little reception. Will you tell Silver and the others what you want and get them started?"

As Bigwig began to explain his plan to Silver and Holly, Hazel sent Speedwell to the north end of the Honeycomb to listen to the digging and keep reporting what he could make out about its progress. As far as he could see, it would make little difference whether the roof-fall came there or in the center, but at least he ought to try to show the others that he was keeping his wits about him.

"We can't break these walls down to stop the run between, Bigwig," said Holly. "They hold the roof up at this end, you know."

"I know that," answered Bigwig. "We'll dig into the walls of the sleeping burrows behind. They'll need to be bigger anyway, if we're all going to get in there together. Then kick the loose earth back into the spaces between the columns. Stop the whole thing right up."

Since he had come out of Efrafa, Bigwig's standing was very high. Seeing him in good heart, the others set aside their fear as best they could and did as he told them, enlarging the burrows beyond the south end of the Honeycomb and piling up the soft earth in the entry runs until what had been a colonnade began to become a solid wall. It was during a pause in this work that Speedwell reported that the digging above the north end had stopped. Hazel went and crouched beside him, listening for some time. There was nothing to be heard. He went back to where Buckthorn sat guarding the foot of the single open run-Kehaar's run, as it was called.

"You know what's happened?" he said. "They've realized they're all among the beech roots up there, so they've chucked it. They'll be going harder at the other end now."

"I suppose so, Hazel-rah," replied Buckthorn. After a little he said, "D'you remember the rats in the barn? We got out of that all right, didn't we? But I'm afraid we shan't get out of this. It's a pity, after all we've done together."

"Yes, we shall," said Hazel, with all the conviction he could muster. But he knew that if he stayed he would not be able to keep up the pretense. Buckthorn-a decent, straightforward fellow if ever there was one-where would he be by ni-Frith tomorrow? And he himself-where had he led them, with all his clever schemes? Had they come over the common, among the shining wires, through the thunderstorm, the culverts on the great river, to die at the claws of General Woundwort? It was not the death they deserved; it was not the right end of the clever track they had run. But what could stop Woundwort? What could save them now? Nothing, he knew-unless some tremendous blow were to fall upon the Efrafans from outside: and of that there was no chance. He turned away from Buckthorn.

Scratch, scratch: scratch, scratch came the sound of the digging above. Crossing the floor in the dark, Hazel found himself beside another rabbit, who was crouching silently on the near side of the new-piled wall. He stopped, sniffing. It was Fiver.

"Aren't you working?" he asked listlessly.

"No," replied Fiver. "I'm listening."

"To the digging, you mean?"

"No, not the digging. There's something I'm trying to hear-something the others can't hear. Only I can't hear it either. But it's close. Deep. Leaf-drift, deep. I'm going away, Hazel-going away." His voice grew slow and drowsy. "Falling. But it's cold. Cold."

The air in the dark burrow was stifling. Hazel bent over Fiver, pushing the limp body with his nose.

"Cold," muttered Fiver. "How-how. How-how cold!"

There was a long silence.

"Fiver?" said Hazel. "Fiver? Can you hear me?"

Suddenly a terrible sound broke from Fiver; a sound at which every rabbit in the warren leaped in dreadful fear; a sound that no rabbit had ever made, that no rabbit had the power to make. It was deep and utterly unnatural. The rabbits working on the far side of the wall crouched terrified. One of the does began to squeal.

"Dirty little beasts," yelped Fiver. "How-how dare you? Get out-out! Out-out!"

Bigwig burst through the piled earth, twitching and panting.

"In the name of Frith, stop him!" he gasped. "They'll all go mad!"

Shuddering, Hazel clawed at Fiver's side.

"Wake! Fiver, wake!"

But Fiver was lying in a deep stupor.

In Hazel's mind, green branches were straining in the wind. Up and down they swayed, thresh and ply. There was something-something he could glimpse between them. What was it? Water he sensed; and fear. Then suddenly he saw clearly, for an instant, a little huddle of rabbits on the bank of a stream at dawn, listening to the sound of yelping in the wood above and the scolding of a jay.

"If I were you, I shouldn't wait until ni-Frith. I should go now. In fact, I think you'll have to. There's a large dog loose in the wood. There's a large dog loose in the wood."

The wind blew, the trees shook their myriads of leaves. The stream was gone. He was in the Honeycomb, facing Bigwig in the dark, across the motionless body of Fiver. The scratching from above was louder and closer.

"Bigwig," said Hazel, "do as I say at once, there's a good fellow. We've got hardly any time. Go and get Dandelion and Blackberry and bring them to me at the foot of Kehaar's run, quickly."

At the foot of the run Buckthorn was still in his place. He had not moved at Fiver's cry, but his breath was short and his pulse very quick. He and the other three rabbits gathered about Hazel without a word.

"I've got a plan," said Hazel. "If it works, it'll finish Woundwort for good and all. But I've no time to explain. Every moment counts now. Dandelion and Blackberry, you come with me. You're to go straight up out of this run and through the trees to the down. Then northward, over the edge and down to the fields. Don't stop for anything. You'll go faster than I shall. Wait for me by the iron tree at the bottom."

"But Hazel-" said Blackberry.

"As soon as we've gone," said Hazel, turning to Bigwig, "you're to block this run and get everyone back behind the wall you've made. If they break in, hold them up as long as you can. Don't give in to them on any account. El-ahrairah has shown me what to do."

"But where are you going, Hazel?" asked Bigwig.

"To the farm," said Hazel, "to gnaw another rope. Now, you two, follow me up the run: and don't forget, you stop for nothing until you're down the hill. If there are rabbits outside, don't fight-run."

Without another word he dashed up the tunnel and out into the wood, with Blackberry and Dandelion on his heels.

45. Nuthanger Farm Again

At that moment General Woundwort, out on the open grass below the bank, was facing Thistle and Ragwort in the checkered yellow moonlight of the small hours.

"You weren't put at the mouth of that run to listen," he said. "You were put there to stop anyone breaking out. You had no business to leave it. Get back at once."

"I give you my word, sir," said Thistle querulously, "there's some animal down there that is not a rabbit. We both heard it."

"And did you smell it?" asked Woundwort.

"No, sir. No tracks or droppings either. But we both heard an animal and it was no rabbit."

Several of the diggers had left their work and were gathered nearby, listening. A muttering began.

"They had a homba that killed Captain Mallow. My brother was there. He saw it."

"They had a great bird that turned into a shaft of lightning."

"There was another animal that took them away down the river."

"Why can't we go home?"

"Stop that!" said Woundwort. He went up to the group. "Who said that? You, was it? Very well, go home. Go on, hurry up. I'm waiting. That's the way-over there."

The rabbit did not move. Woundwort looked slowly round.

"Right," he said. "Anyone else who wants to go home can get on with it. It's a nice long way and you'll have no officers, because they'll all be busy digging, including myself. Captain Vervain, Captain Groundsel, will you come with me? You, Thistle, go out there and fetch Captain Campion. And you, Ragwort, get back to the mouth of that run you had no business to leave."

Very soon the digging was resumed. The hole was deep now-deeper than Woundwort had expected and still there was no sign of a fall. But all three rabbits could sense that not far below them there lay a hollow space.

"Keep at it," said Woundwort. "It won't take long now."

When Campion came in, he reported that he had seen three rabbits running away over the down to the north. One appeared to be the lame rabbit. He had been about to pursue them but had returned in response to the order brought by Thistle.

"It doesn't matter," said Woundwort. "Let them go. There'll be three less when we get in. What, you again?" he snapped, as Ragwort appeared beside him. "What is it this time?"

"The open run, sir," said Ragwort. "It's been broken in and stopped from down below."

"Then you can start doing something useful," said Woundwort. "Get that root out. No, that one, you fool."

The digging continued, as the first streaks of light began to come into the east.

The great field at the foot of the escarpment had been reaped, but the straw had not yet been burned and lay in long pale rows upon the darker stubble, tenting over the bristling stalks and the weeds of harvest-knotgrass and pimpernel, fluellen and speedwell, heartsease and persicary-colorless and still in the old moonlight. Between the lines of straw the expanse of stubble was as open as the down.

"Now," said Hazel, as they came out from the belt of hawthorn and dogwood where the pylon stood, "are you both sure you understand what we're going to do?"

"It's a tall order, isn't it, Hazel-rah?" answered Dandelion. "But we've got to try it, that's certain. There's nothing else that'll save the warren now."

"Come on, then," said Hazel. "The going's easy, anyway-half as far now the field's been cut. Don't bother about cover-just run in the open. Keep with me, though. I'll go as fast as I can."

They crossed the field easily enough, Dandelion running ahead. The only alarm came when they startled four partridges, which whirred away over the hedge to the west and sailed down, spread-winged, into the field beyond. Soon they reached the road and Hazel halted among the quickset on top of the nearer bank.

"Now, Blackberry," he said, "this is where we leave you. Lie close and don't move. When the time comes, don't break too soon. You've got the best head of any of us. Use it-and keep it, too. When you get back, go to ground in Kehaar's run and stay there till things are safe. Have you got your line clear?"

"Yes, Hazel-rah," replied Blackberry. "But, as far as I can see, I may have to run from here to the iron tree without a check. There's no cover."

"I know," said Hazel. "It can't be helped. If the worst comes to the worst, you'll have to turn for the hedge and then keep popping in and out of it. Do whatever you like. There's no time for us to stay and work it out. Only make sure you get back to the warren. It all depends on you."

Blackberry burrowed his way into the moss and ivy round the base of the thorn. The other two crossed the road and made uphill toward the sheds beside the lane.

"Good roots they keep there," said Hazel, as they passed them and reached the hedge. "Pity we've no time just now. When this is over we'll have a nice, quiet raid on the place."

"I hope we do, Hazel-rah," said Dandelion. "Are you going straight up the lane? What about cats?"

"It's the quickest way," said Hazel. "That's all that matters now."

By this time the first light was clear and several larks were up. As they approached the great ring of elm trees, they heard once more the quick sighing and rustling above them and one yellow leaf came spinning down to the edge of the ditch. They reached the top of the slope and saw before them the barns and the farmyard. Bird-song was breaking out all round and the rooks were calling from high in the elms, but nothing-not even a sparrow-moved on the ground. Straight in front, on the other side of the farmyard, close to the house, stood the dog kennel. The dog was not to be seen, but the rope, tied to the eye bolt on the flat roof, trailed over the edge and disappeared across the straw-covered threshold.

"We're in time," said Hazel. "The brute's still asleep. Now, Dandelion, you mustn't make any mistake. You lie in the grass just there, opposite the kennel. When the rope's gnawed through you'll see it fall. Unless the dog's ill or deaf, it'll be alert by then; probably before, I'm afraid, but that's my lookout. It's up to you to attract it and make it chase you all the way down to the road. You're very fast. Take care it doesn't lose you. Use the hedges if you want to; but remember it'll be trailing the rope. Get it down to Blackberry. That's all that matters."

"If we ever meet again, Hazel-rah," said Dandelion, as he took cover in the grass verge, "we ought to have the makings of the best story ever."

"And you'll be the chap to tell it," said Hazel. He moved away in a half-circle to the morning side and reached the wall of the farmhouse. Then he began to hop cautiously along the wall, in and out of the narrow flower bed. His head was a tumult of smells-phlox in bloom, ashes, cow dung, dog, cat, hens, stagnant water. He came to the back of the kennel, reeking of creosote and of rank straw. A half-used bale of straw stood against it-no doubt clean bedding which, in the dry weather, had not been put back under cover. Here at least was one piece of luck, for he had expected to have trouble in getting on the roof. He scrambled up the straw. Across part of the felted roof lay a torn piece of old blanket, wet with dew. Hazel sat up, sniffing, and put his forepaws on it. It did not slip. He pulled himself up.

How much noise had he made? How strong was his scent over the tar and straw and farmyard? He waited, tense to jump, expecting movement below. There was no sound. In a terrible miasma of dog smell, which gripped him with fear and called "Run! Run!" down every nerve, he crept forward to where the eye bolt was screwed into the roof. His claws scraped slightly and he stopped again. Still there was no movement. He crouched down and began to nibble and gnaw at the thick cord.

It was easier than he had thought it would be. It was a good deal easier than the cord on the punt, though about as thick. The punt cord had been drenched through with rain, pliant, slippery and fibrous. This, though dewy on the outside, was dry-cored and light. In very little time the clean inside was showing. His chisel-like foreteeth bit steadily and he felt the dry strands rip. The cord was as good as half through already.

At that moment he felt the heavy weight of the dog move beneath him. It stretched, shuddered and yawned. The rope moved a little and the straw rustled. The foul smell of it came strong, in a cloud.

"It doesn't matter if it hears me now," thought Hazel. "If only I can get the rope bitten through quickly, it doesn't matter. The dog'll go to Dandelion, if only I can be quick enough to make sure that the rope breaks when it begins to tug."

He ripped at the cord again and sat back for a quick breath, looking across the track to where Dandelion was waiting. Then he froze and stared. A short distance behind Dandelion, in the grass, was the white-chested tabby, wide-eyed, tail lashing, crouching. It had seen both himself and Dandelion. As he watched, it crept a length nearer. Dandelion was lying still, watching the front of the kennel intently, as he had been told. The cat tensed itself to spring.

Before he knew what he was doing, Hazel stamped on the hollow roof. Twice he stamped and then turned to leap to the ground and run. Dandelion, reacting instantly, shot out of the grass to the open gravel. In the same moment, the cat jumped and landed exactly where he had been lying. The dog gave two quick, sharp barks and rushed out of the kennel. It saw Dandelion at once and ran to the full extent of the rope. The rope went taut, held for an instant and then parted at the point where Hazel had gnawed it to a thread. The kennel jerked forward, tilted, fell back and struck the ground with a jolt. Hazel, already off balance, clawed at the blanket, missed his footing and fell over the edge. He landed heavily on his weak leg and lay kicking. The dog was gone.

Hazel stopped kicking and lay still. There was a spurt of pain along his haunch, but he knew that he could move. He remembered the raised floor of the barn across the farmyard. He could limp the short distance, get under the floor and then make his way to the ditch. He raised himself on his forelegs.

On the instant he was knocked sideways and felt himself pressed down. There was a light but sharp pricking beneath the fur across his back. He lashed out with his hind legs, but struck nothing. He turned his head. The cat was on him, crouched half across his body. Its whiskers brushed his ear. Its great green eyes, the pupils contracted to vertical black slits in the sunshine, were staring into his own.

"Can you run?" hissed the cat. "I think not".

46. Bigwig Stands His Ground

Groundsel scrambled up the steep slope of the shaft and rejoined Woundwort in the pit at the top.

"There's nothing left to dig, sir," he said. "The bottom will fall in if anyone goes down there now."

"Can you make out what's below?" asked Woundwort. "Is it a run or a burrow we shall be into?"

"I'm fairly sure it's a burrow, sir," answered Groundsel. "In fact, it feels to me as though there's an unusually big space underneath."

"How many rabbits are in it, do you think?"

"I couldn't hear any at all. But they may be keeping quiet and waiting to attack us when we break in."

"They haven't done much attacking up to now," said Woundwort. "A poor lot, I'd say-skulking underground, and some of them running away in the night. I don't fancy we'll have much trouble."

"Unless, sir-" said Groundsel.

Woundwort looked at him and waited.

"Unless the-the animal attacks us, sir," said Groundsel. "Whatever it is. It's not like Ragwort to imagine anything. He's very stolid. I'm only trying to think ahead," he added, as Woundwort still said nothing.

"Well," said Woundwort at last, "if there is an animal, it'll find out that I'm an animal, too." He came out on the bank, where Campion and Vervain were waiting with a number of the other rabbits.

"We've done all the hard work now," he said. "We'll be able to take our does home as soon as we've finished down below. The way we'll go about it is this. I'm going to break the bottom of the hole in and go straight down into the burrow underneath. I want only three others to follow, otherwise there'll be complete confusion and we shall all be fighting each other. Vervain, you come behind me and bring two more. If there's any trouble we'll deal with it. Groundsel, you follow. But you're to stay in the shaft, understand? Don't jump down until I tell you. When we know where we are and what we're doing, you can bring a few more in."

There was not a rabbit in the Owsla but had confidence in Woundwort. As they heard him preparing to go first into the depths of the enemy warren as calmly as though he were looking for dandelions, his officers' spirits rose. It seemed to them quite likely that the place would be given up without any fighting at all. When the General had led the final assault at Nutley Copse he had killed three rabbits underground and no more had dared to oppose him, although there had been some hard tussles in the outer runs the day before.

"Very well," said Woundwort. "Now, I don't want anyone straying away. Campion, you see to that. As soon as we get one of the blocked runs opened from inside, you can fill the place up. Keep them together here till I let you know and then send them in fast."

"Best of luck, sir," said Campion.

Woundwort jumped into the pit, flattened his ears and went down the shaft. He had already decided that he was not going to stop to listen. There was no point, since he meant to break in at once whether there was anything to be heard or not. It was more important that he should not seem to hesitate or cause Vervain to do so; and that the enemy, if they were there, should have the shortest possible time in which to hear him coming. Below, there would be either a run or a burrow. Either he would have to fight immediately or else there would first be a chance to look round and sense where he was. It did not matter. What mattered was finding rabbits and killing them.

He came to the bottom of the shaft. As Groundsel had said, it was plainly thin-brittle as ice on a puddle-chalk, pebbles and light soil. Woundwort scored it across with his foreclaws. Slightly damp, it held a moment and then fell inward, crumbling. As it fell, Woundwort followed it.

He fell about the length of his own body-far enough to tell him that he was in a burrow. As he landed he kicked out with his hind legs and then dashed forward, partly to be out of Vervain's way as he followed and partly to reach the wall and face about before he could be attacked from behind. He found himself against a pile of soft earth-evidently the end of a blocked run leading out of the burrow-and turned. A moment later Vervain was beside him. The third rabbit, whoever he was, seemed to be in difficulties. They could both hear him scrabbling in the fallen soil.

"Over here," said Woundwort sharply.

The rabbit, a powerful, heavy veteran by the name of Thunder, joined them, stumbling.

"What's the matter?" asked Woundwort.

"Nothing, sir," answered Thunder, "only there's a dead rabbit on the floor and it startled me for a moment."

"A dead rabbit?" said Woundwort. "Are you sure he's dead? Where is he?"

"Over there, sir, by the shaft."

Woundwort crossed the burrow quickly. On the far side of the rubble that had fallen in from the shaft was lying the inert body of a buck. He sniffed at it and then pressed it with his nose.

"He's not been dead long," he said. "He's nearly cold but not stiff. What do you make of it, Vervain? Rabbits don't die underground.

"It's a very small buck, sir," answered Vervain. "Didn't fancy the idea of fighting us, perhaps, and the others killed him when he said so."

"No, that won't do. There's not a scratch on him. Well, leave him, anyway. We've got to get on, and a rabbit this size isn't going to make any difference, dead or alive."

He began to move along the wall, sniffing as he went. He passed the mouths of two blocked runs, came to an opening between thick tree roots and stopped. The place was evidently very big-bigger than the Council burrow at Efrafa. Since they were not being attacked, he could turn the space to his own advantage by getting some more rabbits in at once. He went back quickly to the foot of the shaft. By standing on his hind legs he could just rest his forepaws on the ragged lip of the hole.

"Groundsel?" he said.

"Yes, sir?" answered Groundsel from above.

"Come on," said Woundwort, "and bring four others with you. Jump to this side"-he moved slightly-"there's a dead rabbit on the floor-one of theirs."

He was still expecting to be attacked at any moment, but the place remained silent. He continued to listen, sniffing the close air, while the five rabbits dropped one by one into the burrow. Then he took Groundsel over to the two blocked runs along the eastern wall.

"Get these open as quick as you can," he said, "and send two rabbits to find out what's behind the tree roots beyond. If they're attacked you're to go and join in at once."

"You know, there's something strange about the wall at the other end, sir," said Vervain, as Groundsel began setting his rabbits to work. "Most of it's hard earth that's never been dug. But in one or two places there are piles of much softer stuff. I'd say that runs leading through the wall have been filled up very recently-probably since yesterday evening."

Woundwort and Vervain went carefully along the south wall of the Honeycomb, scratching and listening.

"I believe you're right," said Woundwort. "Have you heard any movement from the other side?"

"Yes, sir, just about here," said Vervain.

"We'll get this pile of soft earth down," said Woundwort. "Put two rabbits on it. If I'm right and Thlayli's on the other side, they'll run into trouble before long. That's what we want-to force him to attack them."

As Thunder and Thistle began to dig, Woundwort crouched silently behind them, waiting.

Even before he heard the roof of the Honeycomb fall in, Bigwig knew that it could be only a matter of time before the Efrafans found the soft places in the south wall and set to work to break through one of them. That would not take long. Then he would have to fight-probably with Woundwort himself; and if Woundwort closed with him and used his weight, he would have little chance. Somehow he must manage to hurt him at the outset, before he expected it. But how?

He put the problem to Holly.

"The trouble is this warren wasn't dug to be defended," said Holly. "That was what the Slack Run was for, back at home, so the Threarah once told me. It was made so that if we ever had to, we could get down beneath an enemy and come up where he wasn't expecting us."

"That's it!" cried Bigwig. "That's the idea! Look, I'm going to dig myself into the floor of the run just behind this blocked opening. Then you cover me with earth. It won't be noticed-there's so much digging and mess in the place already. I know it's a risk, but it'll be better than just trying to stand up in front of a rabbit like Woundwort."

"But suppose they break through the wall somewhere else?" said Holly.

"You must try to make them do it here," replied Bigwig. "When you hear them on the other side, make a noise-do a bit of scratching or something-just above where I am. Anything to get them interested. Come on, help me to dig. And, Silver, get everyone back out of the Honeycomb now and close this wall completely."

"Bigwig," said Pipkin, "I can't wake Fiver. He's still lying out there in the middle of the floor. What's to be done?"

"I'm afraid there's nothing we can do now," replied Bigwig. "It's a great pity, but we'll have to leave him."

"Oh, Bigwig," cried Pipkin, "let me stay out there with him! You'll never miss me, and I can go on trying-"

"Hlao-roo," said Holly as kindly as he could, "if we lose no one but Fiver before this business is ended, then the Lord Frith himself will be fighting for us. No, I'm sorry, old chap, not another word. We need you, we need everyone. Silver, see that he goes back with the others."

When Woundwort dropped through the roof of the Honeycomb, Bigwig was already lying under a thin covering of soil on the other side of the south wall, not far from Clover's burrow.

Thunder sank his teeth into a piece of broken root and pulled it out. There was an instant fall of earth and a gap opened where he had been digging. The soil no longer reached to the roof. It was only a broad pile of soft earth, half filling the run. Woundwort, still waiting silently, could smell and hear a considerable number of rabbits on the far side. He hoped that now they might come into the open burrow and try to attack him. But they made no move.

When it came to fighting, Woundwort was not given to careful calculation. Men, and larger animals such as wolves, usually have an idea of their own numbers and those of the enemy and this affects their readiness to fight and how they go about it. Woundwort had never had any need to think like this. What he had learned from all his experience of fighting was that nearly always there are those who want to fight and those who do not but feel they cannot avoid it. More than once he had fought alone and imposed his will on crowds of other rabbits. He held down a great warren with the help of a handful of devoted officers. It did not occur to him now-and if it had, he would not have thought it mattered-that most of his rabbits were still outside; that those who were with him were fewer than those on the other side of the wall and that until Groundsel had got the runs open they could not get out even if they wanted to. This sort of thing does not count among fighting rabbits. Ferocity and aggression are everything. What Woundwort knew was that those beyond the wall were afraid of him and that on this account he had the advantage.

"Groundsel," he said, "as soon as you've got those runs open, tell Campion to send everyone down here. The rest of you, follow me. We'll have this business finished by the time the others get in to join us."

Woundwort waited only for Groundsel to bring back the two rabbits who had been sent to search among the tree roots at the north end of the burrow. Then, with Vervain behind him, he climbed the pile of fallen earth and thrust his way into the narrow run. In the dark he could hear and smell the rustling and crowding of rabbits-both bucks and does-ahead of him. There were two bucks directly in his path, but they fell back as he plowed through the loose soil. He plunged forward and felt the ground suddenly turn beneath him. The next moment a rabbit started up from the earth at his feet and sank his teeth in the pit of his near foreleg, just where it joined the body.

Woundwort had won almost every fight of his life by using his weight. Other rabbits could not stop him and once they went down they seldom got up. He tried to push now, but his back legs could get no purchase in the pile of loose, yielding soil behind him. He reared up and, as he did so, realized that the enemy beneath him was crouching in a scooped-out trench the size of his own body. He struck out and felt his claws score deeply along the back and haunch. Then the other rabbit, still keeping his grip under Woundwort's shoulder, thrust upward with his hind legs braced against the floor of the trench. Woundwort, with both forefeet off the ground, was thrown over on his back on the earth pile. He lashed out, but the enemy had already loosed his hold and was beyond his reach.

Woundwort stood up. He could feel the blood running down the inside of his near foreleg. The muscle was wounded. He could not put his full weight on it. But his own claws, too, were bloody and this blood was not his.

"Are you all right, sir?" asked Vervain, behind him.

"Of course I'm all right, you fool," said Woundwort. "Follow me close."

The other rabbit spoke from in front of him.

"You told me once to start by impressing you, General. I hope I have."

"I told you once that I would kill you myself," replied Woundwort, "There is no white bird here, Thlayli." He advanced for the second time.

Bigwig's taunt had been deliberate. He hoped that Woundwort would fly at him and so give him a chance to bite him again. But as he waited, pressed to the ground, he realized that Woundwort was too clever to be drawn. Always quick to size up any new situation, he was coming forward slowly, keeping close to the ground himself. He meant to use his claws. Afraid, listening to Woundwort's approach, Bigwig could hear the uneven movement of his forepaws, almost within striking distance. Instinctively he drew back and as he did so the thought came with the sound: "The near forepaw's dragging. He can't use it properly." Leaving his right flank exposed, he struck out on his near side.

His claws found Woundwort's leg, ripping sideways; but before he could draw back, Woundwort's whole weight came down on him and the next moment his teeth had met in his right ear. Bigwig squealed, pressed down and thrashing from side to side. Woundwort, feeling his enemy's fear and helplessness, loosed his hold of the ear and rose above him, ready to bite and tear him across the back of the neck. For an instant he stood above the helpless Bigwig, his shoulders filling the run. Then his injured foreleg gave way and he lurched sideways against the wall. Bigwig cuffed him twice across the face and felt the third blow pass through his whiskers as he sprang back. The sound of his heavy breathing came plainly from the top of the earth pile. Bigwig, the blood oozing from his back and ear, stood his ground and waited. Suddenly he realized that he could see the dark shape of General Woundwort faintly outlined where he crouched above him. The first traces of daylight were glimmering through the broken roof of the Honeycomb behind.

47. The Sky Suspended

When Hazel stamped, Dandelion leaped instinctively from the grass verge. If there had been a hole he would have made for it. For the briefest instant he looked up and down the gravel. Then the dog was rushing upon him and he turned and made for the raised barn. But before he reached it he realized that he must not take refuge under the floor. If he did, the dog would check: very likely a man would call it back. He had to get it out of the farmyard and down to the road. He altered direction and raced up the lane toward the elms.

He had not expected the dog to be so close behind him. He could hear its breath and the loose gravel flying under its paws.

"It's too fast for me!" he thought. "It's going to catch me!" In another moment it would be on him and then it would roll him over, snapping his back and biting out his life. He knew that hares, when overtaken, dodge by turning more quickly and neatly than the pursuing dog and doubling back on their track. "I shall have to double," he thought desperately. "But if I do, it will hunt me up and down the lane and the man will call it off, or else I shall have to lose it by going through the hedge: then the whole plan will fail."

He tore over the crest and down toward the cattle shed. When Hazel had told him what he was to do, it had seemed to him that his task would consist of leading the dog on and persuading it to follow him. Now he was running simply to save his life, and that at a speed he had never touched before, a speed he knew he could not keep up.

In actual fact Dandelion covered three hundred yards to the cattle shed in a good deal less than half a minute. But as he reached the straw at the entrance it seemed to him that he had run forever. Hazel and the farmyard were long, long ago. He had never done anything in his life but run in terror down the lane, feeling the dog's breath at his haunches. Inside the gate a big rat ran across in front of him and the dog checked at it for a moment. Dandelion gained the nearest shed and went headlong between two bales of straw at the foot of a pile. It was a narrow place and he turned round only with some difficulty. The dog was immediately outside, scratching eagerly, whining and throwing up loose straw as it sniffed along the foot of the bales.

"Sit tight," said a young rat, from the straw close beside him. "It'll be off in a minute. They're not like cats, you know."

"That's the trouble," said Dandelion, panting and rolling the whites of his eyes. "It mustn't lose me; and time's everything."

"What?" said the rat, puzzled. "What you say?"

Without answering, Dandelion slipped along to another crack, gathered himself a moment and then broke cover, running across the yard to the opposite shed. It was open-fronted and he went straight through to the boarding along the back. There was a gap under the broken end of a board and here he crept into the field beyond. The dog, following, thrust its head into the gap and pushed, barking with excitement. Gradually the loose board levered open like a trapdoor until it was able to force its way through.

Now that he had a better start, Dandelion kept in the open and ran down the field to the hedge beside the road. He knew he was slower, but the dog seemed slower, too. Choosing a thick part, he went through the hedge and crossed the road. Blackberry came to meet him, scuttering down the further bank. Dandelion dropped exhausted in the ditch. The dog was not twenty feet away on the other side of the hedge. It could not find a big enough gap.

"It's faster than ever I thought," gasped Dandelion, "but I've taken the edge off it. I can't do any more. I must go to ground. I'm finished."

It was plain that Blackberry was frightened.

"Frith help me!" he whispered. "I'll never do it!"

"Go on, quick," said Dandelion, "before it loses interest. I'll overtake you and help if I can."

Blackberry hopped deliberately into the road and sat up. Seeing him, the dog yelped and thrust its weight against the hedge. Blackberry ran slowly along the road toward a pair of gates that stood opposite each other further down. The dog stayed level with him. As soon as he was sure that it had seen the gate on its own side and meant to go to it, Blackberry turned and climbed the bank. Out in the stubble he waited for the dog to reappear.

It was a long time coming; and when at last it pushed its way between the gatepost and the bank into the field, it paid him no attention. It nosed along the foot of the bank, put up a partridge and bounced after it and then began to scratch about in a clump of dock plants. For some time Blackberry felt too terrified to move. Then, in desperation, he hopped slowly toward it, trying to act as though he had not noticed that it was there. It dashed after him, but almost at once seemed to lose interest and returned to its nosing and sniffing over the ground. Finally, when he was utterly at a loss, it set off over the field of its own accord, padding easily along beside one of the rows of threshed straw, trailing the broken cord and pouncing in and out at every squeak and rustle. Blackberry, sheltering behind a parallel row, kept level with it. In this manner they covered the distance to the pylon line, halfway to the foot of the down. It was here that Dandelion caught up with him.

"It's not fast enough, Blackberry! We must get on. Bigwig may be dead."

"I know, but at least it's going the right way. I couldn't get it to move at all, to start with. Can't we-"

"It's got to come up the down at speed or there'll be no surprise. Come on, we'll draw it together. We'll have to get ahead of it first, though."

They ran fast through the stubble until they neared the trees. Then they turned and crossed the dog's line in full view. This time it pursued instantly and the two rabbits reached the undergrowth at the bottom of the steep with no more than ten yards to spare. As they began to climb they heard the dog crashing through the brittle elders. It barked once and then they were out on the open slope with the dog running mute behind them.

The blood ran over Bigwig's neck and down his foreleg. He watched Woundwort steadily where he crouched on the earth pile, expecting him to leap forward at any moment. He could hear a rabbit moving behind him, but the run was so narrow that he could not have turned even if it had been safe to do so.

"Everyone all right?" he asked.

"They're all right," replied Holly. "Come on, Bigwig, let me take your place now. You need a rest."

"Can't," panted Bigwig. "You couldn't get past me here-no room-and if I go back that brute'll follow-next thing you'd know he'd be loose in the burrows. You leave it to me. I know what I'm doing."

It had occurred to Bigwig that in the narrow run even his dead body would be a considerable obstacle. The Efrafans would either have to get it out or dig round it and this would mean more delay. In the burrow behind him he could hear Bluebell, who was apparently telling the does a story. "Good idea," he thought. "Keep em happy. More than I could do if I had to sit there."

"So then El-ahrairah said to the fox, 'Fox you may smell and fox you may be, but I can tell your fortune in the water. »

Suddenly Woundwort spoke.

"Thlayli," he said, "why do you want to throw your life away? I can send one fresh rabbit after another into this run if I choose. You're too good to be killed. Come back to Efrafa. I promise I'll give you the command of any Mark you like. I give you my word."

"Silflay hraka, u embleer rah," replied Bigwig.

" 'Ah ha, said the fox, 'tell my fortune, eh? And what do you see in the water, my friend? Fat rabbits running through the grass, yes, yes? »

"Very well," said Woundwort. "But remember, Thlayli, you yourself can stop this nonsense whenever you wish."

" 'No, replied El-ahrairah, 'it is not fat rabbits that I see in the water, but swift hounds on the scent and my enemy flying for his life. »

Bigwig realized that Woundwort also knew that in the run his body would be nearly as great a hindrance dead as alive. "He wants me to come out on my feet," he thought. "But it's Inlé, not Efrafa, that I shall go to from here."

Suddenly Woundwort leaped forward in a single bound and landed full against Bigwig like a branch falling from a tree. He made no attempt to use his claws. His great weight was pushing, chest to chest, against Bigwig's. With heads side by side they bit and snapped at each other's shoulders. Bigwig felt himself sliding slowly backward. He could not resist the tremendous pressure. His back legs, with claws extended, furrowed the floor of the run as he gave ground. In a few moments he would be pushed bodily into the burrow behind. Putting his last strength into the effort to remain where he was, he loosed his teeth from Woundwort's shoulder and dropped his head, like a cart horse straining at a load. Still he was slipping. Then, very gradually it seemed, the terrible pressure began to slacken. His claws had a hold of the ground. Woundwort, teeth sunk in his back, was snuffling and choking. Though Bigwig did not know it, his earlier blows had torn Woundwort across the nose. His nostrils were full of his own blood, and with jaws closed in Bigwig's fur he could not draw his breath. A moment more and he let go his hold. Bigwig, utterly exhausted, lay where he was. After a few moments he tried to get up, but a faintness came over him and a feeling of turning over and over in a ditch of leaves. He closed his eyes. There was silence and then, quite clearly, he heard Fiver speaking in the long grass. "You are closer to death than I. You are closer to death than I."

"The wire!" squealed Bigwig. He jerked himself up and opened his eyes. The run was empty. General Woundwort was gone.

Woundwort clambered out into the Honeycomb, now dimly lit down the shaft by the daylight outside. He had never felt so tired. He saw Vervain and Thunder looking at him uncertainly. He sat on his haunches and tried to clean his face with his front paws.

"Thlayli won't give any more trouble," he said. "You'd better just go in and finish him off, Vervain, since he won't come out."

"You're asking me to fight him, sir?" asked Vervain.

"Well, just take him on for a few moments," answered Woundwort. "I want to start them getting this wall down in one or two other places. Then I'll come back."

Vervain knew that the impossible had happened. The General had come off worst. What he was saying was, "Cover up for me. Don't let the others know."

"What in Frith's name happens now?" thought Vervain. "The plain truth is that Thlayli's had the best of it all along, ever since he first met him in Efrafa. And the sooner we're back there the better."

He met Woundwort's pale stare, hesitated a moment and then climbed on the earth pile. Woundwort limped across to the two runs, halfway down the eastern wall, which Groundsel had been told to get open. Both were now clear at the entrances and the diggers were out of sight in the tunnels. As he approached, Groundsel backed down the further tunnel and began cleaning his claws on a projecting root.

"How are you getting on?" asked Woundwort.

"This run's open, sir," said Groundsel, "but the other will take a bit longer, I'm afraid. It's heavily blocked."

"One's enough," said Woundwort, "as long as they can come down it. We can bring them in and start getting that end wall down."

He was about to go up the run himself when he found Vervain beside him. For a moment he thought that he was going to say that he had killed Thlayli. A second glance showed him otherwise.

"I've-er-got some grit in my eye, sir," said Vervain. "I'll just get it out and then I'll have another go at him."

Without a word Woundwort went back to the far end of the Honeycomb. Vervain followed.

"You coward," said Woundwort in his ear. "If my authority goes, where will yours be in half a day? Aren't you the most hated officer in Efrafa? That rabbit's got to be killed."

Once more he climbed on the earth pile. Then he stopped. Vervain and Thistle, raising their heads to peer past him from behind, saw why. Thlayli had made his way up the run and was crouching immediately below. Blood had matted the great thatch of fur on his head, and one ear, half severed, hung down beside his face. His breathing was slow and heavy.

"You'll find it much harder to push me back from here, General," he said.

With a sort of weary, dull surprise, Woundwort realized that he was afraid. He did not want to attack Thlayli again. He knew, with flinching certainty, that he was not up to it. And who was? he thought. Who could do it? No, they would have to get in by some other way and everyone would know why.

"Thlayli," he said, "we've unblocked a run out here. I can bring in enough rabbits to pull down this wall in four places. Why don't you come out?"

Thlayli's reply, when it came, was low and gasping, but perfectly clear.

"My Chief Rabbit has told me to defend this run and until he says otherwise I shall stay here."

"His Chief Rabbit?" said Vervain, staring.

It had never occurred to Woundwort or any of his officers that Thlayli was not the Chief Rabbit of his warren. Yet what he said carried immediate conviction. He was speaking the truth. And if he was not the Chief Rabbit, then somewhere close by there must be another, stronger rabbit who was. A stronger rabbit than Thlayli. Where was he? What was he doing at this moment?

Woundwort became aware that Thistle was no longer behind him.

"Where's that young fellow gone?" he said to Vervain.

"He seems to have slipped away, sir," answered Vervain.

"You should have stopped him," said Woundwort. "Fetch him back."

But it was Groundsel who returned to him a few moments later.

"I'm sorry, sir," he said, "Thistle's gone up the opened run. I thought you'd sent him or I'd have asked him what he was up to. One or two of my rabbits seem to have gone with him-I don't know what for, I'm sure."

"I'll give them what for," said Woundwort. "Come with me."

He knew now what they would have to do. Every rabbit he had brought must be sent underground to dig and every blocked gap in the wall must be opened. As for Thlayli, he could simply be left where he was and the less said about him the better. There must be no more fighting in narrow runs, and when the terrible Chief Rabbit finally appeared he would be pulled down in the open, from all sides.

He turned to re-cross the burrow, but remained where he was, staring. In the faint patch of light below the ragged hole in the roof, a rabbit was standing-no Efrafan, a rabbit unknown to the General. He was very small and was looking tensely about him-wide-eyed as a kitten above ground for the first time-as though by no means sure where he might be. As Woundwort watched, he raised a trembling forepaw and passed it gropingly across his face. For a moment some old, flickering, here-and-gone feeling stirred in the General's memory-the smell of wet cabbage leaves in a cottage garden, the sense of some easy-going, kindly place, long forgotten and lost.

"Who the devil's that?" asked General Woundwort.

"It-it must be the rabbit that's been lying there, sir," answered Groundsel. "The rabbit we thought was dead."

"Oh, is that it?" said Woundwort. "Well, he's just about your mark, isn't he, Vervain? That's one of them you might be able to tackle, at all events. Hurry up," he sneered, as Vervain hesitated, uncertain whether the General were serious, "and come on out as soon as you've finished."

Vervain advanced slowly across the floor. Even he could derive little satisfaction from the prospect of killing a tharn rabbit half his own size, in obedience to a contemptuous taunt. The small rabbit made no move whatever, either to retreat or to defend himself, but only stared at him from great eyes which, though troubled, were certainly not those of a beaten enemy or a victim. Before his gaze, Vervain stopped in uncertainty and for long moments the two faced each other in the dim light. Then, very quietly and with no trace of fear, the strange rabbit said,

"I am sorry for you with all my heart. But you cannot blame us, for you came to kill us if you could."

"Blame you?" answered Vervain. "Blame you for what?"

"For your death. Believe me, I am sorry for your death."

Vervain in his time had encountered any number of prisoners who, before they died, had cursed or threatened him, not uncommonly with supernatural vengeance, much as Bigwig had cursed Woundwort in the storm. If such things had been liable to have any effect on him, he would not have been head of the Owslafa. Indeed, for almost any utterance that a rabbit in this dreadful situation could find to make, Vervain was unthinkingly ready with one or other of a stock of jeering rejoinders. Now, as he continued to meet the eyes of this unaccountable enemy-the only one he had faced in all the long night's search for bloodshed-horror came upon him and he was filled with a sudden fear of his words, gentle and inexorable as the falling of bitter snow in a land without refuge. The shadowy recesses of the strange burrow seemed full of whispering, malignant ghosts and he recognized the forgotten voices of rabbits done to death months since in the ditches of Efrafa.

"Let me alone!" cried Vervain. "Let me go! Let me go!"

Stumbling and blundering, he found his way to the opened run and dragged himself up it. At the top he came upon Woundwort, listening to one of Groundsel's diggers, who was trembling and white-eyed.

"Oh, sir," said the youngster, "they say there's a great Chief Rabbit bigger than a hare; and a strange animal they heard-"

"Shut up!" said Woundwort. "Follow me, come on."

He came out on the bank, blinking in the sunlight. The rabbits scattered about the grass stared at him in horror, several wondering whether this could really be the General. His nose and one eyelid were gashed and his whole face was masked with blood. As he limped down from the bank his near foreleg trailed and he staggered sideways. He scrambled into the open grass and looked about him.

"Now," said Woundwort, "this is the last thing we have to do, and it won't take long. Down below, there's a kind of wall." He stopped, sensing all around him reluctance and fear. He looked at Ragwort, who looked away. Two other rabbits were edging off through the grass. He called them back.

"What do you think you're doing?" he asked.

"Nothing, sir," replied one. "We only thought that-"

All of a sudden Captain Campion dashed round the corner of the hanger. From the open down beyond came a single, high scream. At the same moment two strange rabbits, running together, leaped the bank into the wood and disappeared down one of the blocked tunnels.

"Run!" cried Campion, stamping. "Run for your lives!"

He raced through them and was gone over the down. Not knowing what he meant or where to run, they turned one way and another. Five bolted down the opened run and a few more into the wood. But almost before they had begun to scatter, into their midst bounded a great black dog, snapping, biting and chasing hither and thither like a fox in a chicken run.

Woundwort alone stood his ground. As the rest fled in all directions he remained where he was, bristling and snarling, bloody-fanged and bloody-clawed. The dog, coming suddenly upon him face to face among the rough tussocks, recoiled a moment, startled and confused. Then it sprang forward; and even as they ran, his Owsla could hear the General's raging, squealing cry, "Come back, you fools! Dogs aren't dangerous! Come back and fight!"

48. Dea ex Machina

When Lucy woke, the room was already light. The curtains were not drawn and the pane of the open casement reflected a gleam of sun which she could lose and find by moving her head on the pillow. A wood pigeon was calling in the elms. But it was some other sound, she knew, that had woken her-a sharp sound, a part of the dream which had drained away, as she woke, like water out of a washbasin. Perhaps the dog had barked. But now everything was quiet and there was only the flash of sun from the windowpane and the sound of the wood pigeon, like the first strokes of a paint brush on a big sheet of paper when you were still not sure how the picture was going to go. The morning was fine. Would there be any mushrooms yet? Was it worth getting up now and going down the field to see? It was still too dry and hot-not good mushroom weather. The mushrooms were like the blackberries-both wanted a drop of rain before they'd be any good. Soon there'd be damp mornings and the big spiders would come in the hedges-the ones with a white cross on their backs. Jane Pocock running off to the back of the schoolbus when she brought one in a matchbox to show Miss Tallant.

Now she couldn't catch the reflection in her eyes any more. The sun had moved. What was going to happen today? Thursday-market day in Newbury. Dad would be going in. Doctor was coming to see Mum. Doctor had funny glasses that pinched on his nose. They'd made a mark each side. If he wasn't in a hurry he'd talk to her. Doctor was a bit funny-like when you didn't know him, but when you did he was nice.

Suddenly there was another sharp sound. It ripped through the still, early morning like something spilled across a clean floor-a squealing-something frightened, something desperate. Lucy jumped out of bed and ran across to the window. Whatever it was, it was only just outside. She leaned well out, with her feet off the floor and the sill pressing breathlessly across her stomach. Tab was down below, right by the kennel. He'd got something: rat it must be, squealing like that.

"Tab!" called Lucy sharply. "Tab! Wha' you got?"

At the sound of her voice the cat looked up for a moment and immediately looked back again at its prey. 'T'weren't no rat, though; 't'was a rabbit, layin' on its side by the kennel. It looked proper bad. Kicking out an' all. Then it squealed again.

Lucy ran down the stairs in her nightdress and opened the door. The gravel made her hobble and she left it and went on up the flower bed. As she reached the kennel the cat looked up and spat at her, keeping one paw pressed down on the rabbit's neck.

"Git out, Tab!" said Lucy. "Crool thing! Let'n alone!"

She cuffed the cat, which tried to scratch her, ears laid flat. She raised her hand again and it growled, ran a few feet and stopped, looking back in sulky rage. Lucy picked up the rabbit. It struggled a moment and then held itself tense in her firm grip.

" 'Old still!" said Lucy. "I ain't goin' 'urtcher!"

She went back to the house, carrying the rabbit.

"What you bin up to, eh?" said her father, boots scratch-scratch over the tiles. "Look at yore feet! En I told you-Wha' got there, then?"

"Rabbit," said Lucy defensively.

"In yer nightdress an' all, catch yore bloomin' death. Wha' want with 'im, then?"

"Goner keep 'im."

"You ain't!"

"Ah, Dad. 'E's nice."

" 'E won't be no bloomin' good t'yer. You put 'im in 'utch 'e'll only die. You can't keep woild rabbit. 'N if 'e gets out 'e'll do all manner o' bloomin' 'arm."

"But 'e's bad, Dad. Cat's bin at 'im."

"Cat was doin' 'is job, then. Did oughter've let 'im finish be roights."

"I wanner show 'im to Doctor."

"Doctor's got summin' better to do than bide about wi' old rabbit. You jus' give 'im 'ere, now."

Lucy began to cry. She had not lived all her life on a farm for nothing and she knew very well that everything her father had said was right. But she was upset by the idea of killing the rabbit in cold blood. True, she did not really know what she could do with it in the long run. What she wanted was to show it to Doctor. She knew that Doctor thought of her as a proper farm girl-a country girl. When she showed him things she had found-a goldfinch's egg, a Painted Lady fluttering in a jam jar or a fungus that looked exactly like orange peel-he took her seriously and talked to her as he would to a grown-up person. To ask his advice about a damaged rabbit and discuss it with him would be very grown-up. Meanwhile, her father might give way or he might not.

"I on'y just wanted to show 'im to Doctor, Dad. I won't let 'im do no 'arm, honest. On'y it's nice talking to Doctor."

Although he never said so, her father was proud of the way Lucy got on with Doctor. She was proper bright kid-very likely goin' to grammar school an' all, so they told him. Doctor had said once or twice she was real sensible with these things she picked up what she showed him. Comin' to somethin', though, bloody rabbits. All same, would'n' 'urt, long's she didn' let 'un go on the place.

"Why don' you do somethin' sensible," he said, "'stead o' bidin' there 'ollerin' and carryin' on like you was skimmish? You wants go'n get some cloze on, then you c'n go'n put 'im in that old cage what's in shed. One what you 'ad for they budgies."

Lucy stopped crying and went upstairs, still carrying the rabbit. She shut it in a drawer, got dressed and went out to get the cage. On the way back she stopped for some straw from behind the kennel. Her father came across from the long barn.

"Did y'see Bob?"

"Never," said Lucy. "Where's 'e gone, then?"

"Bust 'is rope an' off. I know'd that old rope were gett'n on like, but I didn't reckon 'e could bust 'im. Anyways, I go' go in to Newbury s'mornin'. 'F'e turns up agen you'd best tie 'im up proper."

"I'll look out fer 'im, Dad," said Lucy. "I'll ge' bi' o' breakfast up to Mum now."

"Ah, that's good girl. I reckon she'll be right's a trivet tomorrer."

Doctor Adams arrived soon after ten. Lucy, who was making her bed and tidying her room later than she should have been, heard him stop his car under the elms at the top of the lane and went out to meet him, wondering why he had not driven up to the house as usual. He had got out of the car and was standing with his hands behind his back, looking down the lane, but he caught sight of her and called in the rather shy, abrupt way she was used to.

"Er-Lucy."

She ran up. He took off his pince-nez and put them in his waistcoat pocket.

"Is that your dog?"

The Labrador was coming up the lane, looking decidedly tired and trailing its broken rope. Lucy laid hold of it.

" 'E's bin off, Doctor. 'Bin ever so worried 'bout 'im."

The Labrador began to sniff at Doctor Adams' shoes.

"Something's been fighting with him, I think," said Doctor Adams. "His nose is scratched quite badly, and that looks like some kind of a bite on his leg."

"What d'you reckon t'was, then, Doctor?"

"Well, it might have been a big rat, I suppose, or perhaps a stoat. Something he went for that put up a fight."

"I got a rabbit s'mornin', Doctor. Woild one. 'E's aloive. I took 'un off o' the cat. On'y I reckon e's 'urt. Joo like see 'im?"

"Well, I'd better go and see Mrs. Cane first, I think." (Not "your mother," thought Lucy.) "And then if I've got time I'll have a look at the chap."

Twenty minutes later Lucy was holding the rabbit as quiet as she could while Doctor Adams pressed it gently here and there with the balls of two fingers.

"Well, there doesn't seem to be much the matter with him, as far as I can see," he said at last. "Nothing's broken. There's something funny about his hind leg, but that's been done some time and it's more or less healed-or as much as it ever will. The cat's scratched him across here, you see, but that's nothing much. I should think he'll be all right for a bit."

"No good to keep 'im, though, Doctor, would it? In 'utch, I mean."

"Oh, no, he wouldn't live shut up in a box. If he couldn't get out he'd soon die. No, I should let the poor chap go-unless you want to eat him."

Lucy laughed. "Dad'd be ever s'woild, though, if I was to let 'im go anywheres round 'ere. 'E always says one rabbit means 'undred an' one."

"Well, I'll tell you what," said Doctor Adams, taking his thin fob watch on the fingers of one hand and looking down at it as he held it at arm's length-for he was longsighted-"I've got to go a few miles up the road to see an old lady at Cole Henley. If you like to come along in the car, you can let him go on the down and I'll bring you back before dinner."

Lucy skipped. "I'll just go'n ask Mum."

On the ridge between Hare Warren Down and Watership Down, Doctor Adams stopped the car.

"I should think this would be as good as anywhere," he said. "There's not a lot of harm he can do here, if you come to think about it."

They walked a short distance eastward from the road and Lucy set the rabbit down. It sat stupefied for nearly half a minute and then suddenly dashed away over the grass.

"Yes, he has got something the matter with that leg, you see," said Doctor Adams. "But he could perfectly well live for years, as far as that goes. Born and bred in a briar patch, Brer Fox."

49. Hazel Comes Home

Although Woundwort had shown himself at the last to be a creature virtually mad, nevertheless what he did proved not altogether futile. There can be little doubt that if he had not done it, more rabbits would have been killed that morning on Watership Down. So swiftly and silently had the dog come up the hill behind Dandelion and Blackberry that one of Campion's sentries, half asleep under a tussock after the long night, was pulled down and killed in the instant that he turned to bolt. Later-after it had left Woundwort-the dog beat up and down the bank and the open grass for some time, barking and dashing at every bush and clump of weeds. But by now the Efrafans had had time to scatter and hide, as best they could. Besides, the dog, unexpectedly scratched and bitten, showed a certain reluctance to come to grips. At last, however, it succeeded in putting up and killing the rabbit who had been wounded by glass the day before, and with this it made off by the way it had come, disappearing over the edge of the escarpment.

There could be no question now of the Efrafans renewing their attack on the warren. None had any idea beyond saving his own life. Their leader was gone. The dog had been set on them by the rabbits they had come to kill-of this they were sure. It was all one with the mysterious fox and the white bird. Indeed, Ragwort, the most unimaginative rabbit alive, had actually heard it underground. Campion, crouching in a patch of nettles with Vervain and four or five more, met with nothing but shivering agreement when he said that he was sure that they ought to leave at once this dangerous place, where they had already stayed far too long.

Without Campion, probably not one rabbit would have got back to Efrafa. As it was, all his skill as a patroller could not bring home half of those who had come to Watership. Three or four had run and strayed too far to be found and what became of them no one ever knew. There were probably fourteen or fifteen rabbits-no more-who set off with Campion, some time before ni-Frith, to try to retrace the long journey they had made only the previous day. They were not fit to cover the distance by nightfall: and before long they had worse to face than their own fatigue and low spirits. Bad news travels fast. Down to the Belt and beyond, the rumor spread that the terrible General Woundwort and his Owsla had been cut to pieces on Watership Down and that what was left of them was trailing southward in poor shape, with little heart to keep alert. The Thousand began to close in-stoats, a fox, even a tomcat from some farm or other. At every halt yet another rabbit was not to be found and no one could remember seeing what had happened to him. One of these was Vervain. It had been plain from the start that he had nothing left and, indeed, there was little reason for him to return to Efrafa without the General.

Through all the fear and hardship Campion remained steady and vigilant, holding the survivors together, thinking ahead and encouraging the exhausted to keep going. During the afternoon of the following day, while the Off Fore Mark were at silflay, he came limping through the sentry line with a straggling handful of six or seven rabbits. He was close to collapse himself and scarcely able to give the Council any account of the disaster.

Only Groundsel, Thistle and three others had the presence of mind to dart down the opened run when the dog came. Back in the Honeycomb, Groundsel immediately surrendered himself and his fugitives to Fiver, who was still bemused from his long trance, and scarcely restored to his senses sufficiently to grasp what was toward. At length, however, after the five Efrafans had remained crouching for some time in the burrow, listening to the sounds of the dog hunting above, Fiver recovered himself, made his way to the mouth of the run where Bigwig still lay half conscious, and succeeded in making Holly and Silver understand that the siege was ended. There was no lack of helpers to tear open the blocked gaps in the south wall. It so happened that Bluebell was the first through into the Honeycomb; and for many days afterward he was still improving upon his imitation of Captain Fiver at the head of his crowd of Efrafan prisoners-"like a tomtit rounding up a bunch of molting jackdaws," as he put it.

No one was inclined to pay them much attention at the time, however, for the only thoughts throughout the warren were for Hazel and Bigwig. Bigwig seemed likely to die. Bleeding in half a dozen places, he lay with closed eyes in the run he had defended and made no reply when Hyzenthlay told him that the Efrafans were defeated and the warren was saved. After a time, they dug carefully to broaden the run and as the day wore on the does, each in turn, remained beside him, licking his wounds and listening to his low, unsteady breathing.

Before this, Blackberry and Dandelion had burrowed their way in from Kehaar's run-it had not been blocked very heavily-and told their story. They could not say what might have happened to Hazel after the dog broke loose, and by the early afternoon everyone feared the worst. At last Pipkin, in great anxiety and distress, insisted on setting out for Nuthanger. Fiver at once said that he would go with him and together they left the wood and set off northward over the down. They had gone only a short distance when Fiver, sitting up on an anthill to look about, saw a rabbit approaching over the high ground to the west. They both ran nearer and recognized Hazel. Fiver went to meet him while Pipkin raced back to the Honeycomb with the news.

As soon as he had learned all that had happened-including what Groundsel had to tell-Hazel asked Holly to take two or three rabbits and find out for certain whether the Efrafans had really gone. Then he himself went into the run where Bigwig was lying. Hyzenthlay looked up as he came.

"He was awake a little while ago, Hazel-rah," she said. "He asked where you were; and then he said his ear hurt very much."

Hazel nuzzled the matted fur cap. The blood had turned hard and set into pointed spikes that pricked his nose.

"You've done it, Bigwig," he said. "They've all run away."

For several moments Bigwig did not move. Then he opened his eyes and raised his head, pouching out his cheeks and sniffing at the two rabbits beside him. He said nothing and Hazel wondered whether he had understood. At last he whispered, "Ees finish Meester Voundvort, ya?"

"Ya," replied Hazel. "I've come to help you to silflay. It'll do you good and we can clean you up a lot better outside. Come on: it's a lovely afternoon, all sun and leaves."

Bigwig got up and tottered forward into the devastated Honeycomb. There he sank down, rested, got up again and reached the foot of Kehaar's run.

"I thought he'd killed me," he said. "No more fighting for me-I've had enough. And you-your plan worked, Hazel-rah, did it? Well done. Tell me what it was. And how did you get back from the farm?"

"A man brought me in a hrududu," said Hazel, "nearly all the way."

"And you flew the rest, I suppose," said Bigwig, "burning a white stick in your mouth? Come on, tell me sensibly. What's the matter, Hyzenthlay?"

"Oh!" said Hyzenthlay, staring. "Oh!"

"What is it?"

"He did!"

"Did what?"

"He did ride home in a hrududu. And I saw him as he came-that night in Efrafa, when I was with you in your burrow. Do you remember?"

"I remember," said Bigwig. "I remember what I said, too. I said you'd better tell it to Fiver. That's a good idea-let's go and do it. And if he'll believe you, Hazel-rah, then I will."

50. And Last

It was a fine, clear evening in mid-October, about six weeks later. Although leaves remained on the beeches and the sunshine was warm, there was a sense of growing emptiness over the wide space of the down. The flowers were sparser. Here and there a yellow tormentil showed in the grass, a late harebell or a few shreds of purple bloom on a brown, crisping tuft of self-heal. But most of the plants still to be seen were in seed. Along the edge of the wood a sheet of wild clematis showed like a patch of smoke, all its sweet-smelling flowers turned to old man's beard. The songs of the insects were fewer and intermittent. Great stretches of the long grass, once the teeming jungle of summer, were almost deserted, with only a hurrying beetle or a torpid spider left out of all the myriads of August. The gnats still danced in the bright air, but the swifts that had swooped for them were gone and instead of their screaming cries in the sky, the twittering of a robin sounded from the top of a spindle tree. The fields below the hill were all cleared. One had already been plowed and the polished edges of the furrows caught the light with a dull glint, conspicuous from the ridge above. The sky, too, was void, with a thin clarity like that of water. In July the still blue, thick as cream, had seemed close above the green trees, but now the blue was high and rare, the sun slipped sooner to the west and, once there, foretold a touch of frost, sinking slow and big and drowsy, crimson as the rose hips that covered the briar. As the wind freshened from the south, the red and yellow beech leaves rasped together with a brittle sound, harsher than the fluid rustle of earlier days. It was a time of quiet departures, of the sifting away of all that was not staunch against winter.

Many human beings say that they enjoy the winter, but what they really enjoy is feeling proof against it. For them there is no winter food problem. They have fires and warm clothes. The winter cannot hurt them and therefore increases their sense of cleverness and security. For birds and animals, as for poor men, winter is another matter. Rabbits, like most wild animals, suffer hardship. True, they are luckier than some, for food of a sort is nearly always to be had. But under snow they may stay underground for days at a time, feeding only by chewing pellets. They are more subject to disease in winter and the cold lowers their vitality. Nevertheless, burrows can be snug and warm, especially when crowded. Winter is a more active mating season than the late summer and the autumn, and the time of greatest fertility for the does starts about February. There are fine days when silflay is still enjoyable. For the adventurous, garden-raiding has its charms. And underground there are stories to be told and games to be played-bob-stones and the like. For rabbits, winter remains what it was for men in the middle ages-hard, but bearable by the resourceful and not altogether without compensations.

On the west side of the beech hanger, in the evening sun, Hazel and Fiver were sitting with Holly, Silver and Groundsel. The Efrafan survivors had been allowed to join the warren and after a shaky start, when they were regarded with dislike and suspicion, were settling down pretty well, largely because Hazel was determined that they should.

Since the night of the siege, Fiver had spent much time alone and even in the Honeycomb, or at morning and evening silflay, was often silent and preoccupied. No one resented this-"He looks right through you in such a nice, friendly way," as Bluebell put it-for each in his own manner recognized that Fiver was now more than ever governed, whether he would or no, by the pulse of that mysterious world of which he had once spoken to Hazel during the late June days they had spent together at the foot of the down. It was Bigwig who said-one evening when Fiver was absent from the Honeycomb at story time-that Fiver was one who had paid more dearly than even himself for the night's victory over the Efrafans. Yet to his doe, Vilthuril, Fiver was devotedly attached, while she had come to understand him almost as deeply as ever Hazel had.

Just outside the beech hanger, Hyzenthlay's litter of four young rabbits were playing in the grass. They had first been brought up to graze about seven days before. If Hyzenthlay had had a second litter she would by this time have left them to look after themselves. As it was, however, she was grazing close by, watching their play and every now and then moving in to cuff the strongest and stop him bullying the others.

"They're a good bunch, you know," said Holly. "I hope we get some more like those."

"We can't expect many more until toward the end of the winter," said Hazel, "though I dare say there'll be a few."

"We can expect anything, it seems to me," said Holly.

"Three litters born in autumn-have you ever heard of such a thing before? Frith didn't mean rabbits to mate in the high summer."

"I don't know about Clover," said Hazel. "She's a hutch rabbit: it may be natural to her to breed at any time, for all I know. But I'm sure that Hyzenthlay and Vilthuril started their litters in the high summer because they'd had no natural life in Efrafa. For all that, they're the only two who have had litters, as yet."

"Frith never meant us to go out fighting in the high summer, either, if that comes to that," said Silver. "Everything that's happened is unnatural-the fighting, the breeding-and all on account of Woundwort. If he wasn't unnatural, who was?"

"Bigwig was right when he said he wasn't like a rabbit at all," said Holly. "He was a fighting animal-fierce as a rat or a dog. He fought because he actually felt safer fighting than running. He was brave, all right. But it wasn't natural; and that's why it was bound to finish him in the end. He was trying to do something that Frith never meant any rabbit to do. I believe he'd have hunted like the elil if he could."

"He isn't dead, you know," broke in Groundsel.

The others were silent.

"He hasn't stopped running," said Groundsel passionately. "Did you see his body? No. Did anyone? No. Nothing could kill him. He made rabbits bigger than they've ever been-braver, more skillful, more cunning. I know we paid for it. Some gave their lives. It was worth it, to feel we were Efrafans. For the first time ever, rabbits didn't go scurrying away. The elil feared us. And that was on account of Woundwort-him and no one but him. We weren't good enough for the General. Depend upon it, he's gone to start another warren somewhere else. But no Efrafan officer will ever forget him."

"Well, now I'll tell you something," began Silver. But Hazel cut him short.

"You mustn't say you weren't good enough," he said. "You did everything for him that rabbits could do and a great deal more. And what a lot we learned from you! As for Efrafa, I've heard it's doing well under Campion, even if some things aren't quite the same as they used to be. And listen-by next spring, if I'm right, we shall have too many rabbits here for comfort. I'm going to encourage some of the youngsters to start a new warren between here and Efrafa; and I think you'll find Campion will be ready to send some of his rabbits to join them. You'd be just the right fellow to start that scheme off."

"Won't it be difficult to arrange?" asked Holly.

"Not when Kehaar comes," said Hazel, as they began to hop easily back toward the holes at the northeast corner of the hanger. "He'll turn up one of these days, when the storms begin on that Big Water of his. He can take a message to Campion as quickly as you'd run down to the iron tree and back."

"By Frith in the leaves, and I know someone who'll be glad to see him!" said Silver. "Someone not so very far away."

They had reached the eastern end of the trees and here, well out in the open where it was still sunny, a little group of three young rabbits-bigger than Hyzenthlay's-were squatting in the long grass, listening to a hulking veteran, lop-eared and scarred from nose to haunch-none other than Bigwig, captain of a very free-and-easy Owsla. These were the bucks of Clover's litter and a likely lot they looked.

"Oh, no, no, no, no," Bigwig was saying. "Oh, my wings and beak, that won't do! You-what's your name-Scabious-look, I'm a cat and I see you down at the bottom of my garden chewing up the lettuces. Now, what do I do? Do I come walking up the middle of the path waving my tail? Well, do I?"

"Please, sir, I've never seen a cat," said the young rabbit.

"No, you haven't yet," admitted the gallant captain. "Well, a cat is a horrible thing with a long tail. It's covered with fur and has bristling whiskers and when it fights it makes fierce, spiteful noises. It's cunning, see?"

"Oh, yes, sir," answered the young rabbit. After a pause, he said politely, "Er-you lost your tail?"

"Will you tell us about the fight in the storm, sir?" asked one of the other rabbits, "and the tunnel of water?"

"Yes, later on," said the relentless trainer. "Now look, I'm a cat, right? I'm asleep in the sun, right? And you're going to get past me, right? Now then-"

"They pull his leg, you know," said Silver, "but they'd do anything for him." Holly and Groundsel had gone underground and Silver and Hazel moved out once more into the sun.

"I think we all would," replied Hazel. "If it hadn't been for him that day, the dog would have come too late. Woundwort and his lot wouldn't have been above ground. They'd have been down below, finishing what they'd come to do."

"He beat Woundwort, you know," said Silver. "He had him beat before the dog came. That was what I was going to say just now, but it was as well I didn't, I suppose."

"I wonder how they're getting on with that winter burrow down the hill," said Hazel. "We're going to need it when the hard weather comes. That hole in the roof of the Honeycomb doesn't help at all. It'll close up naturally one day, I suppose, but meanwhile it's a confounded nuisance."

"Here come the burrow-diggers, anyway," said Silver.

Pipkin and Bluebell came over the crest, together with three or four of the does.

"Ah ha, ah ha, O Hazel-rah," said Bluebell. "The burrow's snug, it hath been dug, t'is free from beetle, worm and slug. And in the snow, when down we go-"

"Then what a lot to you we'll owe," said Hazel. "I mean it, too. The holes are concealed, are they?"

"Just like Efrafa, I should think," said Bluebell. "As a matter of fact, I brought one up with me to show you. You can't see it, can you? No-well, there you are. I say, just look at old Bigwig with those youngsters over there. You know, if he went back to Efrafa now they couldn't decide which Mark to put him in, could they? He's got them all."

"Come over to the evening side of the wood with us, Hazel-rah?" said Pipkin. "We came up early on purpose to have a bit of sunshine before it gets dark."

"All right," answered Hazel good-naturedly. "We've just come back from there, Silver and I, but I don't mind slipping over again for a bit."

"Let's go out to that little hollow where we found Kehaar that morning," said Silver. "It'll be out of the wind. D'you remember how he cursed at us and tried to peck us?"

"And the worms we carried?" said Bluebell. "Don't forget them."

As they came near the hollow they could hear that it was not empty. Evidently some of the other rabbits had had the same idea.

"Let's see how close we can get before they spot us," said Silver. "Real Campion style-come on."

They approached very quietly, upwind from the north. Peeping over the edge, they saw Vilthuril and her litter of four lying in the sun. Their mother was telling the young rabbits a story.

"So after they had swum the river," said Vilthuril, "El-ahrairah led his people on in the dark, through a wild, lonely place. Some of them were afraid, but he knew the way and in the morning he brought them safely to some green fields, very beautiful, with good, sweet grass. And here they found a warren; a warren that was bewitched. All the rabbits in this warren were in the power of a wicked spell. They wore shining collars round their necks and sang like the birds and some of them could fly. But for all they looked so fine, their hearts were dark and tharn. So then El-ahrairah's people said, 'Ah, see, these are the wonderful rabbits of Prince Rainbow. They are like princes themselves. We will live with them and become princes, too. »

Vilthuril looked up and saw the newcomers. She paused for a moment and then went on.

"But Frith came to Rabscuttle in a dream and warned him that that warren was enchanted. And he dug into the ground to find where the spell was buried. Deep he dug, and hard was the search, but at last he found that wicked spell and dragged it out. So they all fled from it, but it turned into a great rat and flew at El-ahrairah. Then El-ahrairah fought the rat, up and down, and at last he held it, pinned under his claws, and it turned into a great white bird which spoke to him and blessed him."

"I seem to know this story," whispered Hazel, "but I can't remember where I've heard it."

Bluebell sat up and scratched his neck with his hind leg. The little rabbits turned round at the interruption and in a moment had tumbled up the side of the hollow, squeaking "Hazel-rah! Hazel-rah!" and jumping on Hazel from all sides.

"Here, wait a minute," said Hazel, cuffing them off. "I didn't come here to get mixed up in a fight with a lot of roughs like you! Let's hear the rest of the story."

"But there's a man coming on a horse, Hazel-rah," said one of the young rabbits. "Oughtn't we to run into the wood?"

"How can you tell?" asked Hazel. "I can't hear anything."

"Neither can I," said Silver, listening with his ears up.

The little rabbit looked puzzled.

"I don't know how, Hazel-rah," he answered, "but I'm sure I'm not mistaken."

They waited for some little time, while the red sun sank lower. At last, just as Vilthuril was about to go on with the story, they heard hooves on the turf and the horseman appeared from the west, cantering easily along the track toward Cannon Heath Down.

"He won't bother us," said Silver. "No need to run: he'll just go by. You're a funny chap, though, young Threar, to spot him so far off."

"He's always doing things like that," said Vilthuril. "The other day he told me what a river looked like and said he'd seen it in a dream. It's Fiver's blood, you know. It's only to be expected with Fiver's blood."

"Fiver's blood?" said Hazel. "Well, as long as we've got some of that I dare say we'll be all right. But, you know, it's turning chilly here, isn't it? Come on, let's go down, and hear the rest of that story in a good, warm burrow. Look, there's Fiver over on the bank now. Who's going to get to him first?"

A few minutes later there was not a rabbit to be seen on the down. The sun sank below Ladle Hill and the autumn stars began to shine in the darkening east-Perseus and the Pleiades, Cassiopeia, faint Pisces and the great square of Pegasus. The wind freshened, and soon myriads of dry beech leaves were filling the ditches and hollows and blowing in gusts across the dark miles of open grass. Underground, the story continued.