Watership Down Part 23

Hazel turned at once. "Well, no fox," he said cheerfully. "It's gone and we'll go, too. For goodness' sake keep close together, because if anyone gets lost in the dark we may not find him again. And remember, if we come upon any strange rabbits, you're to attack them at once and ask questions afterward."

They skirted the side of the wood that lay along the southern edge of the combe and then, in ones and twos, slipped across the empty road beyond. Little by little their spirits cleared. They found themselves in open farmland--indeed, they could both smell and hear the farm, not far away on the evening side--and the going was easy: smooth, wide pasture fields, sloping gently downhill and divided not by hedges but by broad, low banks, each as wide as a lane and overgrown with elder, dogwood and spindle. It was true rabbit country, rea.s.suring after the Belt and the tangled, goose-gra.s.sed combe; and when they had covered a good distance over the turf--halting continually to listen and sniff and running, now one and now another, from each piece of cover to the next--Hazel felt safe in giving them a rest. As soon as he had sent out Speedwell and Hawkbit as sentries, he led Bigwig to one side.

"I'm angry with you," he said. "You're the one rabbit we're not going to be able to do without and you have to go and run a silly risk like that. It wasn't necessary and it wasn't even clever. What were you up to?"

"I'm afraid I just lost my head, Hazel," replied Bigwig. "I've been strung up all day, thinking about this business at Efrafa--got me really on edge. When I feel like that I have to do something--you know, fight or run a risk. I thought if I could make that fox look a fool I wouldn't feel so worried about the other thing. What's more, it worked--I feel a lot better now."

"Playing El-ahrairah," said Hazel. "You duffer, you might have thrown your life away for nothing--we all thought you had. Don't try it again, there's a good chap. You know everything's going to depend on you. But tell me, whatever happened in the trees? Why did you cry like that, if you were all right?"

"I didn't," said Bigwig. "It was very queer, what happened, and bad, too, I'm afraid. I was going to lose the homba in the trees, you see, and then come back. Well, I went into the undergrowth, and I'd just stopped limping and was starting to run really fast when suddenly I found myself face to face with a bunch of rabbits--strangers. They were coming toward me, as if they were going out into the open combe. Of course, I didn't have time to get a good look at them, but they seemed to be big fellows. 'Look out--run!' I said as I dashed up to them, but all they did was try to stop me. One of them said, 'You stay here!' or something like that, and then he got right in my way. So I knocked him down--I had to--and raced off, and the next thing I heard was this dreadful squealing. Of course, I went even faster then and I got clear of the trees and came back to you."

"So the homba got this other rabbit?"

"It must have. After all, I led it right onto them, even though I didn't mean to. But I never saw what actually happened."

"What became of the others?"

"I've no idea. They must have run, I suppose."

"I see," said Hazel thoughtfully. "Well, perhaps it's all for the best. But look here, Bigwig, no more fancy tricks until the proper time--there's too much at stake. You'd better stay near Silver and me--we'll keep you in good heart."

At that moment Silver came up to them.

"Hazel," he said, "I've just realized where we are and it's a lot too close to Efrafa. I think we ought to make off as soon as we can."

"I want to go right round Efrafa--wide," said Hazel. "Do you think you can find the way to that iron road Holly told us about?"

"I think so," replied Silver. "But we can't make too big a circle or they'll be completely exhausted. I can't say I know the way, but I can tell the direction all right."

"Well, we'll just have to take the risk," said Hazel. "If only we can get there by early morning, they can rest at the other end."

They met with no more adventures that night, moving quietly along the edges of the fields under the dim light of a quarter-moon. The half-darkness was full of sounds and movement. Once Acorn put up a plover, which flew round them, calling shrilly, until at length they crossed a bank and left it behind. Soon after, somewhere near them, they heard the unceasing bubbling of a nightjar--a peaceful sound, without menace, which died gradually away as they pushed on. And once they heard a corncrake calling as it crept among the long gra.s.s of a path verge. (It makes a sound like a human fingernail drawn down the teeth of a comb.) But elil they met none and although they were continually on the watch for signs of an Efrafan patrol, they saw nothing but mice, and a few hedgehogs hunting for slugs along the ditches.

At last, as the first lark rose toward the light that was still far up in the sky, Silver, his pale fur sodden dark with dew, came limping back to where Hazel was encouraging Bluebell and Pipkin.

"You can pluck up your spirits, Bluebell," he said. "I think we're close to the iron road."

"I wouldn't care about my spirits," said Bluebell, "if my legs weren't so tired. Slugs are lucky not to have legs. I think I'll be a slug."

"Well, I'm a hedgehog," said Hazel, "so you'd better get on!"

"You're not," replied Bluebell. "You haven't enough fleas. Now, slugs don't have fleas, either. How comforting to be a slug, among the dandelions so snug--"

"And feel the blackbird's sudden tug," said Hazel. "All right, Silver, we're coming. But where is is the iron road? Holly said a steep, overgrown bank. I can't make out anything like that." the iron road? Holly said a steep, overgrown bank. I can't make out anything like that."

"No, that's away up by Efrafa. Down here it runs in a sort of combe of its own. Can't you smell it?"

Hazel sniffed. In the cool damp, he picked up at once the unnatural smells of metal, coal smoke and oil. They went forward and in a very short time found themselves looking down from among the bushes and undergrowth on the edge of the railway cutting. All was quiet, but as they paused at the top of the bank, a tussling pack of six or seven sparrows flew down to the line and began to peck about between the sleepers. Somehow, the sight was rea.s.suring.

"Are we to cross, Hazel-rah?" asked Blackberry.

"Yes," said Hazel, "at once. Put it between us and Efrafa: then we'll feed."

They went rather hesitantly down into the cutting, half expecting the fiery, thundering angel of Frith to appear out of the twilight; but the silence remained unbroken. Soon they were all feeding in the meadow beyond, too tired to pay attention to concealment or to anything but the ease of resting their legs and nibbling the gra.s.s.

From above the larches Kehaar sailed down among them, alighted and folded his long, pale gray wings.

"Meester 'Azel, vat you do? You no stay 'ere?"

"They're tired out, Kehaar. They've got to have a rest."

"Ees not to rest 'ere. Ees rabbits come."

"Yes, but not just yet. We can--"

"Ya, ya, ees coming for find you! Ees close!"

"Oh, curse these confounded patrols!" cried Hazel. "Come on, all of you, get down the field into that wood! Yes, you, too, Speedwell, unless you want to have your ears chewed off in Efrafa. Come on, movel"

They tottered over the pasture to the woodland beyond and lay completely exhausted on flat, bare ground under fir trees. Hazel and Fiver consulted Kehaar again.

"It's no good expecting them to go any further, Kehaar," said Hazel. "They've been going all night, you know. We'll have to sleep here today. Did you actually see a patrol?"

"Ya, ya, come all along by udder side iron road. Yoost in time you go."

"Well, then, you saved us. But look, Kehaar, could you go and see where they are now? If they're gone, I'm going to tell our lot to go to sleep--not that they need telling: look at them!"

Kehaar returned with the news that the Efrafan patrol had turned back without crossing the iron road. Then he offered to keep watch himself until the evening and Hazel, greatly relieved, at once told the rabbits to sleep. One or two had already fallen asleep, lying on their sides on the open ground. Hazel wondered whether he ought to wake them and tell them to get under thicker cover, but as he was thinking about it he fell asleep himself.

The day came on hot and still. Among the trees the wood pigeons called drowsily and from time to time a late cuckoo stammered. In the fields, nothing moved except the constantly swishing tails of the cows gathered flank to flank in the shade.

33. The Great River

Never in his life had he seen a river before--this sleek, sinuous, full-bodied animal. ... All was a-shake and a-shiver--glints and gleams and sparkles, rustle and swirl, chatter and bubble.

Kenneth Grahame, The Wind in the Willows The Wind in the Willows When Hazel woke, he started up at once, for the air around him was full of the sharp cries of some creature hunting. He looked quickly round, but could see no signs of alarm. It was evening. Several of the rabbits were already awake and feeding on the edge of the wood. He realized that the cries, urgent and startling though they were, were too small and shrill for any kind of elil. They came from above his head. A bat flittered through the trees and out again without touching a twig. It was followed by another. Hazel could sense that there were many all about, taking flies and moths on the wing and uttering their minute cries as they flew. A human ear would hardly have heard them, but to the rabbits the air was full of their calls. Outside the wood, the field was still bright with evening sunshine, but among the firs the light was dusky and here the bats were coming and going thickly. Mixed with the resinous scent of the firs there came another smell, strong and fragrant, yet sharp--the perfume of flowers, but of some kind unknown to Hazel. He followed it to its source at the edge of the wood. It came from several thick patches of soapwort growing along the edge of the pasture. Some of the plants were not yet in bloom, their buds curled in pink, pointed spirals held in the pale green calices, but most were already star-flowering and giving off their strong scent. The bats were hunting among the flies and moths attracted to the soapwort.

Hazel pa.s.sed hraka and began to feed in the field. He was disturbed to find that his hind leg was troubling him. He had thought that it was healed, but the forced journey over the downs had evidently proved too much for the muscle torn by the shotgun pellets. He wondered whether it was far to the river of which Kehaar had spoken. If it was, he was in for trouble.

"Hazel-rah," said Pipkin, coming up from among the soapwort, "are you all right? Your leg looks queer--you're dragging it."

"No, it's all right," said Hazel. "Look, Hlao-roo, where's Kehaar? I want to talk to him."

"He's flown out to see if there's a patrol anywhere near, Hazel-rah. Bigwig woke some time ago and he and Silver asked Kehaar to go. They didn't want to disturb you."

Hazel felt irritated. It would have been better to be told at once which way to go, rather than to wait while Kehaar looked for patrols. They were going to cross a river and, as far as he was concerned, they could not do it too soon. Fretting, he waited for Kehaar. Soon he had become as tense and nervous as he had ever been in his life. He was beginning to believe that after all he might have been rash. It was clear that Holly had not underrated their danger near Efrafa. He had little doubt that Bigwig, by sheer chance, had led the fox onto a Wide Patrol which had been following their trail. Then, in the morning, again by luck and the help of Kehaar, they had evidently just missed another at the crossing of the iron road. Perhaps Silver's fear was well founded and a patrol had already spotted and reported them without their knowing? Had General Woundwort got some sort of Kehaar of his own? Perhaps a bat was at this moment talking to him? How was one to foresee and guard against everything? The gra.s.s seemed sour, the sunshine chilly. Hazel sat hunched under the firs, worrying dismally. He felt less annoyed, now, with Bigwig: he could understand his feelings. Waiting was bad. He fidgeted for some kind of action. Just as he had decided to wait no longer, but to collect everyone and go immediately, Kehaar came flying from the direction of the cutting. He flapped clumsily down among the firs, silencing the bats.

"Meester 'Azel, ees no rabbits. I t'ink maybe dey no like for go across iron road."

"Good. Is it far to the river, Kehaar?"

"Na, na. Ees close, in vood."

"Splendid. We can find this crossing in daylight?"

"Ya, ya. I show you pridge."

The rabbits had gone only a short distance through the wood when they sensed that they were already near the river. The ground became soft and damp. They could smell sedge and water. Suddenly, the harsh, vibrating cry of a moor hen echoed through the trees, followed by a flapping of wings and a watery scuttering. The rustling of the leaves seemed also to echo, as though reflected distantly from hard ground. A little further on, they could distinctly hear the water itself--the low, continuous pouring of a shallow fall. A human being, hearing from a distance the noise of a crowd, can form an idea of its size. The sound of the river told the rabbits that it must be bigger than any they had known before--wide, smooth and swift. Pausing among the comfrey and ground elder, they stared at each other, seeking rea.s.surance. Then they began to lollop hesitantly forward into more open ground. There was still no river to be seen, but in front they could perceive a flicker and dance of mirrored light in the air. Soon afterward Hazel, limping ahead with Fiver near him, found himself on a narrow green path that divided the wilderness from the riverbank.

The path was almost as smooth as a lawn and clear of bushes and weeds, for it was kept cut for fishermen. Along its further side the riparian plants grew thickly, so that it was separated from the river by a kind of hedge of purple loosestrife, great willow herb, fleabane, figwort and hemp agrimony, here and there already in bloom. Two or three more of the rabbits emerged from the wood. Peering through the plant clumps, they could catch glimpses of the smooth, glittering river, evidently much wider and swifter than the Enborne. Although there was no enemy or other danger to be perceived, they felt the apprehension and doubt of those who have come unawares upon some awe-inspiring place where they themselves are paltry fellows of no account. When Marco Polo came at last to Cathay, seven hundred years ago, did he not feel--and did his heart not falter as he realized--that this great and splendid capital of an empire had had its being all the years of his life and far longer, and that he had been ignorant of it? That it was in need of nothing from him, from Venice, from Europe? That it was full of wonders beyond his understanding? That his arrival was a matter of no importance whatever? We know that he felt these things, and so has many a traveler in foreign parts who did not know what he was going to find. There is nothing that cuts you down to size like coming to some strange and marvelous place where no one even stops to notice that you stare about you.

The rabbits were uneasy and confused. They crouched on the gra.s.s, sniffing the water smells in the cooling, sunset air: and moved closer together, each hoping not to see in the others the nervousness he felt in himself. As Pipkin reached the path a great, shimmering dragonfly, four inches long, all emerald and sable, appeared at his shoulder, hovered, droning and motionless, and was gone like lightning into the sedge. Pipkin leaped back in alarm. As he did so there came a shrill, vibrant cry and he caught sight, between the plants, of a brilliant azure bird flashing past over the open water. A few moments later there came, from close behind the plant hedge, the sound of a fairly heavy splash: but what creature might have made it there was no telling.

Looking round for Hazel, Pipkin caught sight of Kehaar, a little way off, standing in a patch of shallow water between two clumps of willow herb. He was stabbing and snapping at something in the mud and after a few moments pulled out a six-inch leech and swallowed it whole. Beyond him, some distance down the path, Hazel was combing the goose gra.s.s out of his coat and evidently listening to Fiver as they sat together under a rhododendron. Pipkin ran along the bank and joined them.

"There's nothing wrong with the place," Fiver was saying. "There's no more danger here than anywhere else. Kehaar's going to show us where to get across, isn't he? The thing to do is to get on with it before it gets dark."

"They'll never stop here," replied Hazel. "We can't stay and wait for Bigwig in a place like this. It's unnatural for rabbits."

"Yes, we can--calm down. They'll get used to it quicker than you think. I tell you, it's better than one or two other places we've been in. Not all strange things are bad. Would you like me me to take them over? Say it's because of your leg." to take them over? Say it's because of your leg."

"Fine," said Hazel. "Hlao-roo, can you get everyone along here?"

When Pipkin had gone, he said, "I feel troubled, Fiver. I'm asking so much of them, and there are so many risks in this plan."

"They're a better lot than you give them credit for," replied Fiver. "If you were to--"

Kehaar called raucously across, startling a wren out of the bushes.

"Meester 'Azel, vat for you vait?"

"To know where to go," answered Fiver.

"Pridge near. You go on, you see."

Where they were, the undergrowth stood close to the green path, but beyond--downstream, as they all intuitively felt--it gave way to open parkland. Out into this they went, Hazel following Fiver.

Hazel did not know what a bridge was. It was another of Kehaar's unknown words that he did not feel up to questioning. Despite his trust in Kehaar and his respect for his wide experience, he felt still more disturbed as they came into the open. Clearly, this was some sort of man place, frequented and dangerous. A short way ahead was a road. He could see its smooth, unnatural surface stretching away over the gra.s.s. He stopped and looked at it. At length, when he was sure that there were no men anywhere near, he went cautiously up to the verge.

The road crossed the river on a bridge about thirty feet long. It did not occur to Hazel that there was anything unusual in this. The idea of a bridge was beyond him. He saw only a line of stout posts and rails on either side of the road. Similarly, simple African villagers who have never left their remote homes may not be particularly surprised by their first sight of an airplane: it is outside their comprehension. But their first sight of a horse pulling a cart will set them pointing and laughing at the ingenuity of the fellow who thought of that one. Hazel saw without surprise the road crossing the river. What worried him was that where it did so there were only very narrow verges of short gra.s.s, offering no cover. His rabbits would be exposed to view and unable to bolt, except along the road.

"Do you think we can risk it, Fiver?" he asked.

"I can't see why you're bothered," answered Fiver. "You went into the farmyard and the shed where the hutch rabbits were. This is much less dangerous. Come on--they're all watching while we hesitate."

Fiver hopped out on the road. He looked round for a moment and then made his way to the nearer end of the bridge. Hazel followed him along the verge, keeping close beside the rail on the upstream side. Looking round, he saw Pipkin close behind. In the middle of the bridge Fiver, who was perfectly calm and unhurried, stopped and sat up. The other two joined him.

"Let's put on a bit of an act," said Fiver. "Make them inquisitive. They'll follow us just to see what we're looking at."

There was no sill along the edge of the bridge: they could have walked off it into the water three feet below. From under the lowest rail they looked out, upstream, and now, for the first time, saw the whole river plainly. If the bridge had not startled Hazel, the river did. He remembered the Enborne, its surface broken by gravel spits and plant growth. The Test, a weed-cut, carefully tended trout stream, seemed to him like a world of water. A good ten yards wide it was, fast-flowing and smooth, spangling and dazzling in the evening sun. The tree reflections on the even current were unbroken as on a lake. There was not a reed or a plant to be seen above the water. Close by, under the left bank, a bed of crowfoot trailed downstream, the wheel-like leaves all submerged. Darker still, almost black, were the mats of water moss, their thick ma.s.ses motionless on the bed of the river and only the trailing fronds waving slowly from side to side. Waving, too, were the wider expanses of pale green cressweed; but these rippled with the current, lightly and quickly. The water was very clear, with a bed of clean yellow gravel, and even in the middle was hardly four feet deep. As the rabbits stared down they could discern, here and there, a very fine scour, like smoke-- chalk and powdered gravel carried along by the river as dust is blown on the wind. Suddenly, from under the bridge, with a languid movement of its flat tail, swam a gravel-colored fish as long as a rabbit. The watchers, immediately above, could see the dark, vivid spots along its sides. Warily it hung in the current below them, undulating from side to side. It reminded Hazel of the cat in the yard. As they stared, it swam upward with a lithe flicker and stopped just below the surface. A moment later its blunt nose thrust clear of the stream and they saw the open mouth, pure white inside. Rhythmically, without haste, it sucked down a floating sedge fly and sank back under water. A ripple spread outward in subsiding circles, breaking both the reflections and the transparency. Gradually the stream grew smooth and once more they saw the fish below them, waving its tail as it held its place in the current.

"A water hawk!" said Fiver. "So they hunt and eat down there, too! Don't fall in, Hlao-roo. Remember El-ahrairah and the pike."

"Would it eat me?" asked Pipkin, staring.

"There may be creatures in there that could," said Hazel. "How do we know? Come on, let's get across. What would you do if a hrududu came?"

"Run," said Fiver simply, "like this." And he scurried off the further end of the bridge into the gra.s.s beyond.

On this far side of the river, undergrowth and a grove of great horse chestnuts extended almost down to the bridge. The ground was marshy, but at least there was plenty of cover. Fiver and Pipkin began at once on some sc.r.a.pes, while Hazel sat chewing pellets and resting his injured leg. Soon they were joined by Silver and Dandelion, but the other rabbits, more hesitant even than Hazel, remained crouching in the long gra.s.s on the right bank. At last, just before darkness fell, Fiver re-crossed the bridge and coaxed them to follow him back. Bigwig, to everyone's surprise, showed considerable reluctance, and only crossed in the end after Kehaar, returning from another flight over Efrafa, had asked whether he would like him to go and fetch a fox.

The night that followed seemed to all of them disorganized and precarious. Hazel, still conscious of being in man country, was half expecting either a dog or a cat. But although they heard owls more than once, no elil attacked them and by the morning they were in better spirits.

As soon as they had fed, Hazel set them to exploring the surroundings. It became even more plain that the ground near the river was too wet for rabbits. Indeed, in places it was almost bog. Marsh sedge grew there, pink, sweet-scented valerian and the drooping water avens. Silver reported that it was drier up in the woodland away from the bank, and at first Hazel had the idea of picking a fresh spot and digging again. But presently the day grew so hot and humid that all activity was quenched. The faint breeze vanished. The sun drew up a torpid moisture from the watery thickets. The smell of water mint filled all the hydrophanic air. The rabbits crept into the shade, under any cover that offered. Long before ni-Frith, all were drowsing in the undergrowth.

It was not until the dappled afternoon began to grow cool that Hazel woke suddenly, to find Kehaar beside him. The gull was strutting from side to side with short, quick steps and pecking impatiently in the long gra.s.s. Hazel sat up quickly.

"What is it, Kehaar? Not a patrol?"

"Na, na. Ees all fine for sleep like b.l.o.o.d.y owls. Maybe I go for Peeg Vater. Meester 'Azel, you getting mudders now soon? Vat for vait now?"

"No, you're right, Kehaar, we must start now. The trouble is, I can see how to start but not how to finish."

Hazel made his way through the gra.s.s, roused the first rabbit he found--who happened to be Bluebell--and sent him to fetch Bigwig, Blackberry and Fiver. When they came, he took them to join Kehaar on the short gra.s.s of the riverbank.

"This is the problem, Blackberry," he said. "You remember that when we were under the down that evening I said we should have to do three things: get the does out of Efrafa, break up the pursuit and then get right away so that they wouldn't find us. This plan you've thought up is clever. It'll do the first two things, all right, I'm sure of that. But what about the last one? The Efrafan rabbits are fast and savage. They'll find us if we're to be found and I don't believe we can run away faster than they can follow--especially with a lot of does who've never been out of Efrafa. We couldn't possibly stand and fight them to a finish--we're too few. And on top of that, my leg seems to be bad again. So what's to be done?"

"I don't know," answered Blackberry. "But, obviously, we shall need to disappear. Could we swim the river? No scent then, you know."

"It's too swift," said Hazel. "We'd be carried away. But even if we did did swim it, we couldn't count on not being followed. From what I've heard of these Efrafans, they'd certainly swim the river if they thought swim it, we couldn't count on not being followed. From what I've heard of these Efrafans, they'd certainly swim the river if they thought we we had. What it comes to is that, with Kehaar to help us, we can break up a pursuit while we're getting the does out, but they'll know which way we've gone and they won't leave it at that. No, you're right, we've got to vanish without a trace, so that they can't even track us. But how?" had. What it comes to is that, with Kehaar to help us, we can break up a pursuit while we're getting the does out, but they'll know which way we've gone and they won't leave it at that. No, you're right, we've got to vanish without a trace, so that they can't even track us. But how?"

"I don't know," said Blackberry again. "Shall we go up the river a little way and have a look at it? Perhaps there's somewhere we could use for a hiding place. Can you manage that, with your leg?"

"If we don't go too far," replied Hazel.

"Can I come, Hazel-rah?" asked Bluebell, who had been waiting about, a little way off.

"Yes, all right," said Hazel good-naturedly, as he began to limp along the bank upstream.

They soon realized that the woodland on this left bank was lonely, thick and overgrown--denser than the nut copses and bluebell woods of Sandleford. Several times they heard the drumming of a great woodp.e.c.k.e.r, the shyest of birds. As Blackberry was suggesting that perhaps they might look for a hiding place somewhere in this jungle, they became aware of another sound--the falling water which they had heard on their approach the day before. Soon they reached a place where the river curved round in a bend from the east, and here they came upon the broad, shallow fall. It was no more than a foot high--one of those artificial falls, common on the chalk streams, made to attract trout. Several were already rising to the evening hatch of fly. Just above the fall a plank footbridge crossed the river. Kehaar flew up, circled the pool and perched on the hand rail.

"This is more sheltered and lonely than the bridge we crossed last night," said Blackberry. "Perhaps we could make some use of it. You didn't know about this bridge, Kehaar, did you?"