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 p.r.i.c.ked 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 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?" 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

Professing myself, moreover, convinced that the General's unjust interference, so far from being really injurious to their felicity, was perhaps rather conducive to it, by improving their knowledge of each other, and adding strength to their attachment, I leave it to be settled by whomsoever it may concern. ...

Jane Austen, Northanger Abbey Northanger Abbey 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 s.p.a.ce of the down. The flowers were spa.r.s.er. Here and there a yellow tormentil showed in the gra.s.s, 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 gra.s.s, 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 gra.s.s. 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 you ever heard of such a thing before? Frith didn't mean rabbits to mate in the high summer." 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 have had litters, as yet." 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 pa.s.sionately. "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 gra.s.s, 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 gra.s.s. 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." 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, Ca.s.siopeia, 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 gra.s.s. Underground, the story continued.

Epilogue

He did look far Into the service of the time, and was Discipled of the bravest: he lasted long, But on us both did haggish age steal on, And wore us out of act....

Shakespeare, All's Well That Ends Well All's Well That Ends Well He was part of my dream, of course--but then I was part of his dream, too.

Lewis Carroll, Through the Looking-Gla.s.s Through the Looking-Gla.s.s "And what happened in the end?" asks the reader who has followed Hazel and his comrades in all their adventures and returned with them at last to the warren where Fiver brought them from the fields of Sandleford. The wise Mr. Lockley has told us that wild rabbits live for two or three years. He knows everything about rabbits: but all the same, Hazel lived longer than that. He lived a tidy few summers--as they say in that part of the world--and learned to know well the changes of the downs to spring, to winter and to spring again. He saw more young rabbits than he could remember. And sometimes, when they told tales on a sunny evening by the beech trees, he could not clearly recall whether they were about himself or about some other rabbit hero of days gone by.

The warren prospered and so, in the fullness of time, did the new warren on the Belt, half Watership and half Efrafan--the warren that Hazel had first envisaged on that terrible evening when he set out alone to face General Woundwort and try to save his friends against all odds. Groundsel was the first Chief Rabbit; but he had Strawberry and Buckthorn to give him advice and he had learned better than to mark anyone or to order more than a very occasional Wide Patrol. Campion readily agreed to send some rabbits from Efrafa and the first party was led by none other than Captain Avens, who acted sensibly and made a very good job of it.

General Woundwort was never seen again. But it was certainly true, as Groundsel said, that no one ever found his body, so it may perhaps be that, after all, that extraordinary rabbit really did wander away to live his fierce life somewhere else and to defy the elil as resourcefully as ever. Kehaar, who was once asked if he would look out for him in his flights over the downs, merely replied, "Dat d.a.m.n rabbit--I no see 'im, I no vant I see 'im." Before many months had pa.s.sed, no one on Watership knew or particularly cared to know whether he himself or his mate was descended from one or two Efrafan parents or from none at all. Hazel was glad that it should be so. And yet there endured the legend that somewhere out over the down there lived a great and solitary rabbit, a giant who drove the elil like mice and sometimes went to silflay in the sky. If ever great danger arose, he would come back to fight for those who honored his name. And mother rabbits would tell their kittens that if they did not do as they were told, the General would get them--the General who was first cousin to the Black Rabbit himself. Such was Woundwort's monument: and perhaps it would not have displeased him.

One chilly, bl.u.s.tery morning in March, I cannot tell exactly how many springs later, Hazel was dozing and waking in his burrow. He had spent a good deal of time there lately, for he felt the cold and could not seem to smell or run so well as in days gone by. He had been dreaming in a confused way--something about rain and elder bloom--when he woke to realize that there was a rabbit lying quietly beside him--no doubt some young buck who had come to ask his advice. The sentry in the run outside should not really have let him in without asking first. Never mind, thought Hazel. He raised his head and said, "Do you want to talk to me?"

"Yes, that's what I've come for," replied the other. "You know me, don't you?"

"Yes, of course," said Hazel, hoping he would be able to remember his name in a moment. Then he saw that in the darkness of the burrow the stranger's ears were shining with a faint silver light. "Yes, my lord," he said, "Yes, I know you."

"You've been feeling tired," said the stranger, "but I can do something about that. I've come to ask whether you'd care to join my Owsla. We shall be glad to have you and you'll enjoy it. If you're ready, we might go along now."

They went out past the young sentry, who paid the visitor no attention. The sun was shining and in spite of the cold there were a few bucks and does at silflay, keeping out of the wind as they nibbled the shoots of spring gra.s.s. It seemed to Hazel that he would not be needing his body any more, so he left it lying on the edge of the ditch, but stopped for a moment to watch his rabbits and to try to get used to the extraordinary feeling that strength and speed were flowing inexhaustibly out of him into their sleek young bodies and healthy senses.

"You needn't worry about them," said his companion. "They'll be all right--and thousands like them. If you'll come along, I'll show you what I mean."

He reached the top of the bank in a single, powerful leap. Hazel followed; and together they slipped away, running easily down through the wood, where the first primroses were beginning to bloom.

Lapine Glossary Bob-stones A traditional game among rabbits.

Crixa, the The center of Efrafa, at the crossing point of two bridle paths.

Efrafa The name of the warren founded by General Woundwort.