Watership Down Page 20

  "And what will he bring with him?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

  He stopped. Hazel looked at Fiver apprehensively.

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

  "No, we don't know it. But go on."

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

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

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

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

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

  "That sounds bad."

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

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

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

  "No, we haven't been so far."

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

  "On the other side of the river?"

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

  "Iron road?" asked Fiver.

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

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

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

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

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

  "I t'ink two days. Ees long vay."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

  "I didn't know," said Strawberry.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

  24. Nuthanger Farm

  When Robyn came to Notyngham,

  Sertenly withouten layn,

  He prayed to God and myld Mary

  To bryng hym out save agayn.

  Beside him stod a gret-hedid munke,

  I pray to God woo he be!

  Fful sone he knew gode Robyn,

  As sone as he hym se.

  Robin Hood and the Monk (Child's Ballads, No. 119)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

  "Over road. Up lane."

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

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

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