'Yes, that's the style,' said Bigwig. 'And while you're doing that, I'll take Silver and Buckthorn here and have a run down the fields beyond, just to get the lie of the land and make sure there isn't anything dangerous.'
The three explorers set off beside the brook, while Hazel led the other rabbits across the field and up to the edge of the woodland. They went slowly along the foot of the bank, pushing in and out of the clumps of red campion and ragged robin. From time to time one or another would begin to scrape in the gravelly bank, or venture a little way in among the trees and nut-bushes to scuffle in the leaf-mould. After they had been searching and moving on quietly for some time, they reached a place from which they could see that the field below them broadened out. Both on their own side and opposite, the wood-edges curved outwards, away from the brook. They also noticed the roofs of a farm, but some distance off. Hazel stopped and they gathered round him.
'I don't think it makes much difference where we do a bit of scratching,' he said.' It's all good, so far as I can see. Not the slightest trace of elil - no scent or tracks or droppings. That seems unusual, but it may be just that the home warren attracted more elil than other places. Anyway, we ought to do well here. Now I'll tell you what seems the right thing to me. Let's go back a little way, between the woods, and have a scratch near that oak tree there - just by that white patch of stitchwort. I know the farm's a long way off, but there's nc point in being nearer to it than we need. And if we're fairly close to the wood opposite, the trees will help to break the wind a bit in winter.'
'Splendid,' said Blackberry. 'It's going to cloud over, do you see? Rain before sunset and we'll be in shelter. Well, let's make a start. Oh, look! There's Bigwig coming back along the bottom, and the other two with him.'
The three rabbits were returning down the bank of the stream and had not yet seen Hazel and the others. They passed below them, into the narrower part of the field between the two copses, and it was not until Acorn had been sent half-way down the slope to attract their attention that they turned and came up to the ditch.
'I don't think there's going to be much to trouble us here, Hazel,' said Bigwig. 'The farm's a good way away and the fields between don't show any signs of elil at all. There's a man-track - in fact, there are several - and they look as though they were used a good deal. Scent's fresh and there are the ends of those little white sticks that they burn in their mouths. But that's all for the best, I reckon. We keep away from the men and the men frighten the elil away.'
'Why do the men come, do you suppose?' asked Fiver.
'Who knows why men do anything? They may drive cows or sheep in the fields, or cut wood in the copses. What does it matter? I'd rather dodge a man than a stoat or a fox.'
'Well, that's fine,' said Hazel. 'You've found out a lot, Bigwig, and all to the good. We were just going to make some scrapes along the bank there. We'd better start. The rain won't be long now, if I know anything about it.'
Buck rabbits on their own seldom or never go in for serious digging. This is the natural job of a doe making a home for her litter before they are born, and then her buck helps her. All the same, solitary bucks - if they can find no existing holes to make use of - will sometimes scratch out short tunnels for shelter, although it is not work that they tackle at all seriously. During the morning the digging proceeded in a light-hearted and intermittent way. The bank on each side of the oak tree was bare and consisted of a light, gravelly soil. There were several false starts and fresh choices, but by ni-Frith they had three scrapes of a sort. Hazel, watching, lent help here and there and encouraged the others. Every so often he slipped back to look out over the field and make sure that all was safe. Only Fiver remained solitary. He took no part in the digging but squatted on the edge of the ditch, fidgeting backwards and forwards, sometimes nibbling and then starting up suddenly as though he could hear some sound in the wood. After speaking to him once or twice and receiving no reply, Hazel thought it best to let him alone. The next time he left the digging he kept away from Fiver and sat looking at the bank, as though entirely concerned with the work.
A little while after ni-Frith the sky clouded over thickly. The light grew dull and they could smell rain approaching from the west. The blue-tit that had been swinging on a bramble, singing 'Heigh, ho, go-and-get-another-bit-of-moss,' stopped his acrobatics and flew into the wood. Hazel was just wondering whether it would be worth while starting a side-passage to link Bigwig's hole to Dandelion's, when he felt a stamp of warning from somewhere close by. He turned quickly. It was Fiver who had stamped and he was now staring intently across the field.
Beside a tussock of grass a little way outside the opposite copse, a rabbit was sitting and gazing at them. Its ears were erect and it was evidently giving them the full attention of sight, smell and hearing. Hazel rose on his hind legs, paused, and then sat back on his haunches, in full view. The other rabbit remained motionless. Hazel, never taking his eyes off it, heard three or four of the others coming up behind him. After a moment he said,
'Blackberry?'
'He's down the hole,' replied Pipkin.
'Go and get him.'
Still the strange rabbit made no move. The wind rose and the long grass began to flutter and ripple in the dip between them. From behind, Blackberry said,
'You wanted me, Hazel?'
'I'm going over to speak to that rabbit,' said Hazel. 'I want you to come with me.'
'Can I come?' asked Pipkin.
'No, Hlao-roo. We don't want to frighten him. Three's too many.'
'Be careful,' said Buckthorn, as Hazel and Blackberry set off down the slope. 'He may not be the only one.'
At several points the brook was narrow - not much wider than a rabbit-run. They jumped it and went up the opposite slope.
'Just behave as if we were back at home,' said Hazel. 'I don't see how it can be a trap and anyway we can always run.'
As they approached, the other rabbit kept still and watched them intently. They could see now that he was a big fellow, sleek and handsome. His fur shone and his claws and teeth were in perfect condition. Nevertheless, he did not seem aggressive. On the contrary, there was a curious, rather unnatural gentleness about the way in which he waited for them to come nearer. They stopped and looked at him from a little distance.
'I don't think he's dangerous,' whispered Blackberry.' I'll go up to him first if you like.'
'We'll both go,' replied Hazel. But at this moment the other rabbit came towards them of his own accord. He and Hazel touched their noses together, sniffing and questioning silently. The stranger had an unusual smell, but it was certainly not unpleasant. It gave Hazel an impression of good feeding, of health and of a certain indolence, as though the other came from some rich, prosperous country where he himself had never been. He had the air of an aristocrat and as he turned to gaze at Blackberry from his great, brown eyes, Hazel began to see himself as a ragged wanderer, leader of a gang of vagabonds. He had not meant to be the first to speak, but something in the other's silence compelled him.
'We've come over the heather,' he said.
The other rabbit made no reply, but his look was not that of an enemy. His demeanour had a kind of melancholy which was perplexing.
'Do you live here?' asked Hazel, after a pause.
'Yes,' replied the other rabbit; and then added, 'We saw you come.'
'We mean to live here too,' said Hazel firmly.
The other rabbit showed no concern. He paused and then answered, 'Why not? We supposed you would. But I don't think there are enough of you, are there, to live very comfortably on your own?'
Hazel felt puzzled. Apparently the stranger was not worried by the news that they meant to stay. How big was his warren? Where was it? How many rabbits were concealed in the copse and watching them now? Were they likely to be attacked? The stranger's manner told nothing. He seemed detached, almost bored, but perfectly friendly. His lassitude, his great size and beautiful, well-groomed appearance, his unhurried air of h
aving all he wanted and of being unaffected by the newcomers one way or the other - all these presented Hazel with a problem unlike anything he had had to deal with before. If there was some kind of trick, he had no idea what it might be. He decided that he himself, at any rate, would be perfectly candid and plain.
'There are enough of us to protect ourselves,' he said. 'We don't want to make enemies, but if we meet with any kind of interference -'
The other interrupted smoothly.' Don't get upset - you're all very welcome. If you're going back now, I'll come over with you: that is, unless you have any objection.'
He set off down the slope. Hazel and Blackberry, after looking at each other for a moment, caught him up and went beside him. He moved easily, without haste and showed less caution than they in crossing the field. Hazel felt more mystified than ever. The other rabbit evidently had no fear that they might set upon him, hrair to one, and kill him. He was ready to go alone among a crowd of suspicious strangers, but what he stood to gain from this risk it was impossible to guess. Perhaps, thought Hazel wryly, teeth and claws would make no impression on that great, firm body and shining pelt.
When they reached the ditch, all the other rabbits were squatting together, watching their approach. Hazel stopped in front of them but did not know what to say. If the stranger had not been there, he would have given them an account of what had happened. If Blackberry and he had driven the stranger across the field by force, he could have handed him over for safe-keeping to Bigwig or Silver. But to have him sitting beside him, looking his followers over in silence and courteously waiting for someone else to speak first - this was a situation beyond Hazel's experience. It was Bigwig, straightforward and blunt as always, who broke the tension.
'Who is this, Hazel?' he said. 'Why has he come back with you?'
'I don't know,' answered Hazel, trying to look frank and feeling foolish. 'He came of his own accord.'
'Well, we'd better ask him, then,' said Bigwig, with something like a sneer. He came close to the stranger and sniffed, as Hazel had done. He, too, was evidently affected by the peculiar smell of prosperity, for he paused as though in uncertainty. Then, with a rough, abrupt air, he said, 'Who are you and what do you want?'
'My name is Cowslip,' said the other. 'I don't want anything. I hear you've come a long way.'
'Perhaps we have,' said Bigwig. 'We know how to defend ourselves, too.'
'I'm sure you "do," said Cowslip, looking round at the mudstained, bedraggled rabbits with an air of being too polite to comment. 'But it can be hard to defend oneself against the weather. There's going to be rain and I don't think your scrapes are finished.' He looked at Bigwig, as though waiting for him to ask another question. Bigwig seemed confused. Clearly, he could make no more of the situation than Hazel. There was silence except for the sound of the rising wind. Above them, the branches of the oak tree were beginning to creak and sway. Suddenly, Fiver came forward.
'We don't understand you,' he said. 'It's best to say so and try to get things clear. Can we trust you? Are there many other rabbits here? Those are the things we want to know.'
Cowslip showed no more concern at Fiver's tense manner than he had at anything that had gone before. He drew a fore-paw down the back of one ear and then replied,
'I think you're puzzling yourselves unnecessarily. But if you want the answers to your questions, then I'd say yes, you can trust us: we don't want to drive you away. And there is a warren here, but not as big a one as we should like. Why should we want to hurt you? There's plenty of grass, surely?'
In spite of his strange, clouded manner, he spoke so reasonably that Hazel felt rather ashamed.
'We've been through a lot of danger,' he said. 'Everything new seems like danger to us. After all, you might be afraid that we were coming to take your does or turn you out of your holes.'
Cowslip listened gravely. Then he answered,
'Well, as to the holes, that was something I thought I might mention. These scrapes aren't very deep or comfortable, are they? And although they're facing out of the wind now, you ought to know that this isn't the usual wind we get here. It's blowing up this rain from the south. We usually have a west wind and it'll go straight into these holes. There are plenty of empty burrows in our warren and if you want to come across you'll be welcome. And now if you'll excuse me, I won't stay any longer. I hate the rain. The warren is round the corner of the wood opposite.'
He ran down the slope and over the brook. They watched him leap the bank of the further copse and disappear through the green bracken. The first scatters of rain were beginning to fall, pattering into the oak leaves and pricking the bare, pink skin inside their ears.
'Fine, big fellow, isn't he?' said Buckthorn. 'He doesn't look as though he had much to bother about, living here.'
'What should we do, Hazel, do you think?' asked Silver. 'It's true what he said, isn't it? These scrapes - well, we can crouch in them out of the weather, but no more than that. And as we can't all get into one, we shall have to split up.'
'We'll join them together,' said Hazel, 'and while we're doing that I'd like to talk about what he said. Fiver, Bigwig and Blackberry, can you come with me? The rest of you split how you like.'
The new hole was short, narrow and rough. There was no room for two rabbits to pass. Four were like beans in a pod. For the first time, Hazel began to realize how much they had left behind. The holes and tunnels of an old warren become smooth, reassuring and comfortable with use. There are no snags or rough corners. Every length smells of rabbits - of that great, indestructible flood of Rabbitry in which each one is carried along, sure-footed and safe. The heavy work has all been done by countless great-grandmothers and their mates. All the faults have been put right and everything in use is of proved value. The rain drains easily and even the wind of mid-winter cannot penetrate the deeper burrows. Not one of Hazel's rabbits had ever played any part in real digging. The work they had done that morning was trifling and all they had to show for it was rough shelter and little comfort.
There is nothing like bad weather to reveal the shortcomings of a dwelling, particularly if it is too small. You are, as they say, stuck with it and have leisure to feel all its peculiar irritations and discomforts. Bigwig, with his usual brisk energy, set to work. Hazel, however, returned and sat pensive at the lip of the hole, looking out at the silent, rippling veils of rain that drifted across and across the little valley between the two copses. Closer, before his nose, every blade of grass, every bracken frond was bent, dripping and glistening. The smell of last year's oak leaves filled the air. It had turned chilly. Across the field the bloom of the cherry tree, under which they had sat that morning, hung sodden and spoiled. While Hazel gazed, the wind slowly veered round into the west, as Cowslip had said it would, and brought the rain driving into the mouth of the hole. He backed down and rejoined the others. The pattering and whispering of the rain sounded softly but distinctly outside. The fields and woods were shut in under it, emptied and subdued. The insect life of the leaves and grass was stilled. The thrush should have been singing, but Hazel could heai no thrush. He and his companions were a muddy handful of scratchers, crouching in a narrow, draughty pit in lonely country. They were not out of the weather. They were waiting, uncomfortably, for the weather to change.
'Blackberry,' said Hazel, 'what did you think of our visitor and how would you like to go to his warren?'
'Well,' replied Blackberry, 'what I think is this. There's no way of finding out whether he's to be trusted except to try it. He seemed friendly. But then, if a lot of rabbits were afraid of some newcomers and wanted to deceive them - get them down a hole and attack them - they'd start - wouldn't they? - by sending someone who was plausible. They might want to kill us. But then again, as he said, there's plenty of grass and as for turning them out or taking their does, if they're all up to his size and weight they've nothing to fear from a crowd like us. They must have seen us come. We were tired. Surely that was the time to attack us? Or while
we were separated, before we began digging? But they didn't. I reckon they're more likely to be friendly than otherwise. There's only one thing beats me. What do they stand to get from asking us to join their warren?'
'Fools attract elil by being easy prey,' said Bigwig, cleaning the mud out of his whiskers and blowing through his long front teeth. 'And we're fools until we've learnt to live here. Safer to teach us, perhaps. I don't know - give it up. But I'm not afraid to go and find out. If they do try any tricks, they'll find I know a few as well. I wouldn't mind taking a chance, to sleep somewhere more comfortable than this. We haven't slept since yesterday afternoon.'
'Fiver?'
'I think we ought to have nothing to do with that rabbit or his warren. We ought to leave this place at once. But what's the good of talking?'
Cold and damp, Hazel felt impatient. He had always been accustomed to rely on Fiver and now, when he really needed him, he was letting them down. Blackberry's reasoning had been first-rate and Bigwig had at least shown which way any sound-hearted rabbit would be likely to lean. Apparently the only contribution Fiver could make was this beetle-spirited vapouring. He tried to remember that Fiver was under-sized and that they had had an anxious time and were all weary. At this moment the soil at the far end of the burrow began to crumble inwards: then it fell away and Silver's head and front paws appeared.
'Here we are,' said Silver cheerfully. 'We've done what you wanted, Hazel: and Buckthorn's through next door. But what I'd like to know is, how about What's-His-Name? Gowpat - no - Cowslip? Are we going to his warren or not? Surely we're not going to sit cowering in this place because we're frightened to go and see him. Whatever will he think of us?'
'I'll tell you,' said Dandelion, from over his shoulder.' If he's not honest, he'll know we're afraid to come: and if he is, he'll think we're suspicious, cowardly skulkers. If we're going to live in these fields, we'll have to get on terms with his lot sooner or later, and it goes against the grain to hang about and admit we daren't visit them.'