Campion's suggestion was 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 anticlimax. Also, he wanted to get back to Efrafa as soon as he could. Like most war-lords, 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 on to 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 centre 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 new-born 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 look-out, 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 centre, 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 pretence. 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 Wound wort? 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 leapt 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 northwards, 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
Cry Havoc! And let slip the dogs of war.
Shakespeare Julius Caesar
At that moment General Woundwort, out on the open grass below the bank, was facing Thistle and Ragwort in the chequered, 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 - knot-grass and pimpernel, fluellen and speedwell, heartsease and persicary - colourless 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 towards 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 look-out. 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 flowerbed. 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 fore-paws on it. It did not slip. He pulled himself up.