Watership Down
by Richard Adams

35. Groping

This world, where much is to be done, and little known…

Dr Johnson

‘– And then before the Mark silflay,’ said Chervil,’ I always have a look at the weather. The previous Mark send a runner, of course, to say when they’re going down, and he reports on the weather, but I always go and have a look for myself as well. In moonlight we put the sentries fairly close in and keep on the move ourselves to make sure no one goes too far. But in rain or darkness we send the Mark up in small groups, one after the other, and each group has a sentry in charge. In absolutely desperate weather we ask the General’s permission to postpone the silflay.’

‘But do they often try to run away?’ asked Bigwig. During the afternoon he had been up and down the runs and crowded burrows with Chervil and Avens, the other Mark officer, and had thought to himself that never in his life had he seen such a cheerless, dispirited lot of rabbits. ‘They don’t strike me as a very difficult bunch.’

‘Most of them are no trouble, it’s true,’ said Avens, ‘but you never know when trouble’s coming. For instance, you’d have said there wasn’t a more docile lot in Efrafa than the Right Flank. And then one day they get four hlessil wished on them by the Council and the next evening Bugloss isn’t very quick in the uptake for some reason; and suddenly these hlessil play a trick on him and bunk. And that’s the end of him – to say nothing of poor old Charlock killed on the iron road. When something like that happens, it happens like lightning and it isn’t always planned: sometimes it’s more like a frenzy. A rabbit tears away on impulse and if you don’t knock him over quick, the next thing you know three more will be off after him. The only safe way is to watch all the time when they’re above ground and do your own relaxing when you can. After all, that’s what we’re here for – that and the patrols.’

‘Now, about burying hraka,’ said Chervil, ‘you can’t be too strict. If the General finds any hraka in the fields he’ll stuff your tail down your throat. They always try to dodge burying, though. They want to be natural, the anti-social little beasts. They just don’t realize that everyone’s good depends on everyone’s cooperation. What I do is to set three or four of them to dig a new trough in the ditch every day, as a punishment. You can nearly always find someone to punish if you try hard enough. Today’s squad fills up yesterday’s trough and digs another. There are special runs leading into the bottom of the ditch and the Mark have got to use those and no others when they go out to pass hraka. We keep a hraka-sentry in the ditch to make sure they come back.’

‘How do you check them in after silflay?’ asked Bigwig.

‘Well, we know them all by sight,’ replied Chervil, ‘and we watch them go down. There are only two entrance holes for the Mark and one of us sits at each hole. Every rabbit knows which hole he has to use and I should certainly miss any of mine who didn’t go down. The sentries come in last of all – I only call them in when I’m quite sure that all the Mark are down. And once they’re down, of course, they can’t very well get out, with a sentry at each hole. Digging I should hear. You’re not allowed to dig in Efrafa without permission from the Council. The only really dangerous time is when there’s an alarm – say, a man or a fox. Then we all bolt for the nearest hole, of course. So far, it doesn’t seem to have occurred to anyone that he could bolt the other way and have quite a long start before he was missed. Still, no rabbit will bolt towards elil, and that’s the real safeguard.’

‘Well, I admire your thoroughness,’ said Bigwig, thinking to himself that his secret task seemed to be even more hopeless than he had expected. ‘I’ll get the hang of it all as soon as I can. When do we have the chance of a patrol?’

‘I expect the General will take you on patrol himself to begin with,’ said Avens. ‘He did me. You may not be so keen when you’ve had a day or two with him – you’ll be worn out. Still, I must admit, Thlayli, you’re a fine size, and if you’ve been living rough for some time you’ll probably manage it all right.’

At this moment a rabbit with a white scar across his throat came down the run.

‘The Neck Mark’s just going down, Captain Chervil, sir,’ he said. ‘It’s a beautiful evening: I should make the most of it.’

‘I was wondering when you were going to show up,’ replied Chervil. ‘Tell Captain Sainfoin I’m bringing my Mark up at once.’

Turning to one of his own sentries who was close by, Chervil told him to go round the burrows and send everyone up for silflay.

‘Now,’ he said, ‘Avens, you go to the further hole as usual, and Thlayli can join me on the nearer one. We’ll send four sentries out to the line to start with, and when the Mark have all gone out, we’ll add four more and keep two in reserve. I’ll see you in the usual place, by the big flint in the bank.’

Bigwig followed Chervil along the run, down which came the scents of warm grass, clover and hop trefoil. He had found most of the runs closer and stuffier than he was used to, no doubt because there were so few holes into the open air. The prospect of an evening silflay, even in Efrafa, was pleasant. He thought of the beech leaves rustling above the far-off Honeycomb, and sighed. ‘I wonder how old Holly’s getting on,’ he thought, ‘and whether I’ll ever see him again: or Hazel either, for the matter of that. Well, I’ll give these blighters something to think about before I’ve finished. I do feel lonely, though. How hard it is to carry a secret by yourself!’

They reached the mouth of the hole and Chervil went outside to look round. When he returned he took up station at the top of the run. As Bigwig found a place alongside, he noticed for the first time, in the opposite wall of the run, a kind of recess like an open cave. In this, three rabbits were squatting. Those on either side had the tough, stolid look of members of the Owslafa. But it was at the one in the middle that he stared. This rabbit had very dark fur – almost black. But this was not the most remarkable thing about him. He was dreadfully mutilated. His ears were nothing but shapeless shreds, ragged at the edges, seamed with ill-knit scars and beaded here and there with lumps of proud, bare flesh. One eyelid was misshapen and closed askew. Despite the cool, exciting air of the July evening, he seemed apathetic and torpid. He kept his gaze fixed on the ground and blinked continually. After a time, he lowered his head and rubbed his nose on his fore-paws in a listless manner. Then he scratched his neck and settled down in his former, drooping position.

Bigwig, his warm, impulsive nature stirred by curiosity and pity, went across the run.

‘Who are you?’ he asked.

‘My name is Blackavar, sir,’ replied the rabbit. He did not look up and spoke without expression, as though he had answered this question many times before.

‘Are you going to silflay?’ said Bigwig. No doubt, he thought, this was some hero of the warren, wounded in a great fight and now infirm, whose past services merited an honourable escort when he went out.

‘No, sir,’ answered the rabbit.

‘Why ever not?’ said Bigwig. ‘It’s a lovely evening.’

‘I don’t silflay at this time, sir.’

‘Then why are you here?’ asked Bigwig, with his usual directness.

‘The Mark that has the evening silflay, sir,’ began the rabbit. ‘The Mark that has – they come – I –’ He hesitated and fell silent.

One of the Owslafa spoke. ‘Get on with it,’ he said.

‘I come here for the Mark to see me,’ said the rabbit in his low, drained voice.’ Every Mark should see how I have been punished as I deserve for my treachery in trying to leave the warren. The Council were merciful – the Council were merciful – the Council – I can’t remember it, sir, I really can’t,’ he burst out, turning to the sentry who had spoken. ‘I can’t seem to remember anything.’

The sentry said nothing. Bigwig, after staring in shocked silence for a few moments, rejoined Chervil.

‘He’s supposed to tell everybody who asks,’ said Chervil, ‘but he’s getting sort of stupid after half a month of it. He tried to run away. Campion caught him and brought him back and the Council ripped up his ears and said he had to be shown at every morning and evening silflay, as an example to the others. But if you ask me, he won’t last much longer. He’ll meet a blacker rabbit than himself one of these nights.’

Bigwig shuddered, partly at Chervil’s tone of callous indifference and partly at his own memories. The Mark were filing up now and he watched as they went past, each darkening the entrance for a moment before hopping out under the hawthorn. It was clear that Chevril prided himself on knowing his rabbits by name. He spoke to most of them and was at pains to show that he had some knowledge of their personal lives. It seemed to Bigwig that the answers he got were not particularly warm or friendly, but he did not know whether to put that down to dislike of Chervil or merely to the lack of spirit that seemed to be common to the rank-and-file in Efrafa. He was closely on the watch – as Blackberry had advised him to be – for any signs of disaffection or rebellion, but he could see little grounds for hope in the expressionless faces that went by. At the end came a little group of three or four does, talking among themselves.

‘Well, are you getting on all right with your new friends, Nelthilta?’ said Chervil to the first, as she passed him.

The doe, a pretty, long-nosed rabbit not more than three months old, stopped and looked at him.

‘You’ll get on yourself one day, Captain, I dare say,’ she replied. ‘Like Captain Mallow – he got on, you know. Why don’t you send some does on Wide Patrol?’

She paused for Chervil to reply, but he made no answer and did not speak to the does who followed Nelthilta out into the field.

‘What did she mean by that?’ asked Bigwig.

‘Well, there’s been trouble, you know,’ said Chervil. ‘A bunch of does in the Near Fore started a row at a Council meeting. The General said they must be broken up and we had a couple sent to us. I’ve been keeping an eye on them. They’re no trouble themselves but Nelthilta’s taken up with them and it seems to have made her cheeky and resentful: ’sort of thing you saw just now. I don’t really mind that – it shows they feel the Owsla’s on top. If the young does became quiet and polite I should be much more worried: I should wonder what they were up to. All the same, Thlayli, I’d like you to do what you can to get to know those particular does, and bring them a bit more into line.’

‘Right,’ said Bigwig. ‘By the way, what are the rules about mating?’

‘Mating?’ said Chervil. ‘Well, if you want a doe you have one – any doe in the Mark, that is. We’re not officers for nothing, are we? The does are under orders and none of the bucks can stop you. That just leaves you and me and Avens; and we shall hardly quarrel. There are plenty of does, after all.’

‘I see,’ said Bigwig. ‘Well, I’ll silflay now. Unless you’ve got any other ideas, I’ll go and talk to some of the Mark and then go round the sentries and get the lie of the land. What about Blackavar?’

‘Leave him,’ said Chervil.’ He’s none of our business. The Owslafa will keep him here until the Mark come back and after that they’ll take him away.’

Bigwig made his way into the field, conscious of the wary glances of the rabbits he passed. He felt perplexed and apprehensive. How was he to begin his dangerous task? Begin he must, in one way or another, for Kehaar had made it clear that he was not ready to wait. There was nothing for it but to take a chance and trust somebody. But whom? A warren like this must be full of spies. Probably only General Woundwort knew who the spies were. Was there a spy watching him now?

‘I shall just have to trust my feelings,’ he thought. ‘I’ll go round the place a bit and see if I can make any friends. But I know one thing – if I do succeed in getting any does out of here, I’ll take that poor wretched Blackavar with me as well. Frith on a bridge! It makes me angry just to think of him being forced to sit there like that. General Woundwort indeed! A gun’s too good for him.’

Nibbling and pondering, he moved slowly over the open meadow in the evening sun. After a while he found that he was approaching a small hollow, much like the one on Watership Down where he and Silver had found Kehaar. In this hollow there were four does, with their backs to him. He recognized them as the little group who had gone out last. They had evidently finished the hungry, intent stage of feeding and were browsing and talking at leisure, and he could see that one of them had the attention of the other three. Even more than most rabbits, Bigwig loved a story and now he felt attracted by the prospect of hearing something new in this strange warren. He moved quietly up to the edge of the hollow just as the doe began to speak.

At once he realized that this was no story. Yet he had heard the like before, somewhere. The rapt air, the rhythmic utterance, the intent listeners – what was it they recalled? Then he remembered the smell of carrots, and Silverweed dominating the crowd in the great burrow. But these verses went to his heart as Silverweed’s had not.

   Long ago

The yellow-hammer sang, high on the thorn.

He sang near a litter that the doe brought out to play,

He sang in the wind and the kittens played below.

Their time slipped by all under the elder bloom.

But the bird flew away and now my heart is dark

And time will never play in the fields again.

Long ago

The orange beetles clung to the rye-grass stems.

The windy grass was waving. A buck and doe

Ran through the meadow. They scratched a hole in the bank,

They did what they pleased all under the hazel leaves.

But the beetles died in the Frost and my heart is dark;

And I shall never choose a mate again.

The frost is falling, the frost falls into my body.

My nostrils, my ears are torpid under the frost.

The swift will come in the spring, crying ‘News! News!

‘Does, dig new holes and flow with milk for your litters.’

I shall not hear. The embryos return

Into my dulled body. Across my sleep

There runs a wire fence to imprison the wind.

I shall never feel the wind blowing again.

The doe was silent and her three companions said nothing: but their stillness showed plainly enough that she had spoken for all of them. A flock of starlings passed overhead, chattering and whistling, and a liquid dropping fell into the grass among the little group, but none moved or startled. Each seemed taken up with the same melancholy thoughts – thoughts which, however sad, were at least far from Efrafa.

Bigwig’s spirit was as tough as his body and quite without sentimentality, but like most creatures who have experienced hardship and danger, he could recognize and respect suffering when he saw it. He was accustomed to sizing up other rabbits and deciding what they were good for. It struck him that these does were not far from the end of their powers. A wild animal that feels that it no longer has any reason to live, reaches in the end a point when its remaining energies may actually be directed towards dying. It was this state of mind that Bigwig had mistakenly attributed to Fiver in the warren of the snares. Since then his judgement had matured. He felt that despair was not far from these does; and from all that he had heard of Efrafa, both from Holly and from Chervil, he could understand why. He knew that the effects of overcrowding and tension in a warren show themselves first in the does. They become infertile and aggressive. But if aggression cannot mend their troubles, then often they begin to drift towards the only other way out. He wondered what point of this dismal path these particular does had reached.

He hopped down into the hollow. The does, disturbed from their thoughts, looked at him resentfully and drew back.

‘I know you’re Nelthilta,’ said Bigwig to the pretty young doe who had retorted to Chervil in the run. ‘But what’s your name?’ he went on, turning to the doe beside her.

After a pause, she answered reluctantly, ‘Thethuthinnang, sir.’*

‘And yours?’ said Bigwig, to the doe who had spoken the verses.

She turned to him a look of such wretchedness, so full of accusation and suffering, that it was all he could do not to beg her then and there to believe that he was her secret friend and that he hated Efrafa and the authority which he represented. Nelthilta’s rejoinder to Chervil in the run had been full of hatred, but this doe’s gaze spoke of wrongs beyond her power to express. As Bigwig stared back at her, he suddenly recalled Holly’s description of the great yellow hrududu that had torn open the earth above the destroyed warren. ‘That might have met a look like this,’ he thought. Then the doe answered, ‘My name is Hyzenthlay, sir.’

‘Hyzenthlay?’ said Bigwig, startled out of his self-possession. ‘Then it was you who –’ He stopped. It might be dangerous to ask whether she remembered speaking to Holly. But whether she did or not, here, evidently, was the rabbit who had told Holly and his companions about the troubles of Efrafa and the discontent of the does. If he remembered Holly’s story rightly, she had already made some sort of attempt to leave the warren. ‘But,’ he thought, as he met once more her desolate eyes, ‘what is she good for now?’

‘May we have permission to go, sir?’ asked Nelthilta. ‘The company of officers absolutely overpowers us, you see: we find a little of it goes an awfully long way.’

‘Oh – yes – certainly – by all means,’ replied Bigwig in confusion. He remained where he was as the does hopped away, Nelthilta raising her voice to remark, ‘What a great oaf!’ and half looking round in the evident hope that he would take her up.

‘Oh well, there’s one of them with some spirit left, anyway,’ he thought, as he made his way out to the sentries.

He spent some time talking to the sentries and learning how they were organized. It was a depressingly efficient system. Each sentry could reach his neighbour in a matter of moments; and the appropriate stamping signal – for they had more than one – would bring out the officers and the reserves. If necessary, the Owslafa could be alerted in almost no time at all and so could Captain Campion, or whatever officer might be patrolling the outskirts of the warren. Since only one Mark fed at a time, there could hardly be any confusion about where to go if an alarm were given. One of the sentries, Marjoram, told him about the attempted escape by Blackavar.

‘He pretended to feed his way out as far as he could,’ said Marjoram, ‘and then he made a dash. He actually managed to knock down two sentries who tried to stop him; and I doubt whether anyone on his own has ever done as much as that. He ran like mad, but Campion had got the alarm, you see, and he simply moved round and intercepted him further down the fields. Of course, if he hadn’t smashed up the sentries the Council might have let him off more lightly.’

‘Do you like the warren life?’ asked Bigwig.

‘It’s not too bad now I’m in the Owsla,’ answered Marjoram, ‘and if I can get to be an officer it’ll be better still. I’ve done two Wide Patrols now – they’re the thing for getting yourself noticed. I can track and fight as well as most, but of course they want more than that from an officer. I think our officers are a strong bunch, don’t you?’

‘Yes, I do,’ said Bigwig with feeling. It struck him that Marjoram evidently did not know that he himself was a newcomer to Efrafa. At any rate, he showed neither jealousy nor resentment. Bigwig was beginning to realize that in this place, nobody was told more than was good for him; or got to know much, except what was before his nose. Marjoram probably supposed that he, Bigwig, had been promoted out of another Mark.

As darkness fell, just before the end of the silflay, Captain Campion came up the field with a patrol of three and Chervil ran out to meet him on the sentry-line. Bigwig joined them and listened to the talk. He gathered that Campion had been out as far as the iron road but had found nothing unusual.

‘Don’t you ever go beyond the iron road?’ he asked.

‘Not very often,’ answered Campion. ‘It’s wet, you know – bad rabbit country. I have been there, but on these ordinary circuit patrols I’m really looking nearer home. My job is partly to notice anything new that the Council ought to know about, and partly to make sure we pick up anyone who bolts. Like that miserable Blackavar – and he gave me a bite I shan’t forget, before I got him down. On a fine evening like this, I generally go down as far as the bank of the iron road and then work along this side of it. Or sometimes I go out in the other direction, as far as the barn. It all depends what’s wanted. By the way, I saw the General earlier this evening and I rather think he means to take you on patrol in two or three days’ time, as soon as you’ve settled down and your Mark have come off the dawn and evening silflay.’

‘Why wait for that?’ said Bigwig with all the enthusiasm he could assume. ‘Why not sooner?’

‘Well, a Mark generally keeps a full Owsla when it’s on dawn and evening silflay. The rabbits are more lively at those times, you see, and need more supervision. But a Mark that’s on ni-Frith and fu-Inlé silflay can generally spare Owsla for a Wide Patrol. Now, I’ll leave you here. I’ve got to take my lot to the Crixa and report to the General.’

As soon as the Mark had gone underground and Blackavar had been taken away by his escort, Bigwig excused himself to Chervil and Avens and went to his own burrow. Although the rank-and-file were cramped underground, the sentries had two large, roomy burrows to themselves, while each officer had a private burrow. By himself at last, Bigwig settled down to think over his problem.

The difficulties were bewildering. He was fairly certain that with Kehaar’s help he himself could escape from Efrafa whenever he wished. But how in the world was he to bring a bunch of does out – supposing that any were ready to try it? If he took it upon himself to call the sentries in during a silflay, Chervil would see what he had done in a matter of moments. The only possibility, then, was to make the breakout during the day: to wait until Chervil was asleep and then order a sentry to leave his post at the mouth of one of the holes. Bigwig considered. He could see no flaw in this idea. Then the thought came to him, ‘And what about Blackavar?’ Blackavar presumably spent the day under guard in some special burrow. Probably hardly anyone knew where – no one knew anything in Efrafa – and certainly no one would tell. So he would have to leave Blackavar: no realistic plan could include him.

‘I’ll be jiggered if I leave him,’ muttered Bigwig to himself. ‘I know Blackberry would say I was a fool. Still, he’s not here and I’m doing this myself. But suppose I wreck the whole thing because of Blackavar? Oh, Frith in a barn! What a business!’

He thought until he realized that he was thinking in circles. After a time, he fell asleep. When he woke, he could tell that it was moonlight outside, fine and still. It occurred to him that perhaps he might start his venture from the other end – by persuading some of the does to join him and working out a plan afterwards, perhaps with their help. He went down the run until he came upon a young rabbit sleeping as best he could outside an over-crowded burrow. He woke him.

‘Do you know Hyzenthlay?’ he asked.

‘Oh yes, sir,’ replied the rabbit, with a rather pathetic attempt to sound brisk and ready.

‘Go and find her and tell her to come to my burrow,’ said Bigwig. ‘No one else is to come with her. Do you understand?’

‘Yes, sir.’

When the youngster had scurried off, Bigwig returned to his burrow, wondering whether there would be any suspicion. It seemed unlikely. From what Chervil had said, it was common enough for Efrafan officers to send for does. If he were questioned he had only to play up. He lay down and waited.

In the dark, a rabbit came slowly up the run and stopped at the entrance to the burrow. There was a pause.

‘Hyzenthlay?’ said Bigwig.

‘I am Hyzenthlay.’

‘I want to talk to you,’ said Bigwig.

‘I am in the Mark, sir, and under your orders. But you have made a mistake.’

‘No, I haven’t,’ replied Bigwig. ‘You needn’t be afraid. Come in here, close beside me.’

Hyzenthlay obeyed. He could feel her fast pulse. Her body was tense: her eyes were closed and her claws dug into the floor.

‘Hyzenthlay,’ whispered Bigwig in her ear, ‘listen carefully. You remember that many days ago now, four rabbits came to Efrafa in the evening. One had very pale grey fur and one had a healed rat-bite in his foreleg. You talked with their leader – his name was Holly. I know what he told you.’

She turned her head in fear. ‘How do you know?’

‘Never mind. Only listen to me.’

Then Bigwig spoke of Hazel and Fiver; of the destruction of the Sandleford warren and the journey to Watership Down. Hyzenthlay neither moved nor interrupted.

‘The rabbits who talked to you that evening,’ said Bigwig, ‘who told you about the warren that was destroyed and of how they had come to ask for does from Efrafa – do you know what became of them?’

Hyzenthlay’s reply was no more than the faintest murmur in his ear.

‘I know what I heard. They escaped the next evening. Captain Charlock was killed pursuing them.’

‘And was any other patrol sent after them, Hyzenthlay? The next day, I mean?’

‘We heard that there was no officer to spare, with Bugloss under arrest and Charlock dead.’

‘Those rabbits returned to us safely. One of them is not far away now, with Hazel and Fiver and several more. They are cunning and resourceful. They are waiting for me to bring does out of Efrafa – as many as I can get to come. I shall be able to send them a message tomorrow morning.’

‘How?’

‘By a bird – if all goes well.’ Bigwig told her about Kehaar. When he had finished, Hyzenthlay made no reply and he could not tell whether she was considering all that he had said or whether fear and disbelief had so troubled her that she did not know what to say. Did she think he was a spy trying to trap her? Did she perhaps wish only that he would let her go away? At last he said,

‘Do you believe me?’

‘Yes, I believe you.’

‘Might I not be a spy sent by the Council?’

‘You are not. I can tell.’

‘How?’

‘You spoke of your friend – the one who knew that that warren was a bad place. He is not the only such rabbit. Sometimes I can tell these things too: but not often now, for my heart is in the frost.’

‘Then will you join me – and persuade your friends as well? We need you: Efrafa doesn’t need you.’

Again she was silent. Bigwig could hear a worm moving in the earth nearby and faintly down the tunnel came the sound of some small creature pattering through the grass outside. He waited quietly, knowing that it was vital that he should not upset her.

At last she spoke again, so low in his ear that the words seemed barely more than broken cadences of breathing.

‘We can escape from Efrafa. The danger is very great, but in that we can succeed. It is beyond that I cannot see. Confusion and fear at nightfall – and then men, men, it is all things of men! A dog – a rope that snaps like a dry branch. A rabbit – no, it is not possible! – a rabbit that rides in a hrududu! Oh, I have become foolish – tales for kittens on a summer evening. No, I cannot see as I did once: it is like the shapes of trees beyond a field of rain.’

‘Well, you’d better come and meet this friend of mine,’ said Bigwig. ‘He talks just like that, and I’ve come to trust him, so I trust you too. If you feel we’re going to succeed, that’s fine. But what I’m asking is whether you’ll bring your friends to join us.’

After another silence, Hyzenthlay said,

‘My courage – my spirit: it’s so much less than it was. I’m afraid to let you rely on me.’

‘I can tell that. What is it that’s worn you down? Weren’t you the leader of the does who went to the Council?’

‘There was myself and Thethuthinnang. I don’t know what’s happened to the other does who were with us. We were all in the Right Fore Mark then, you know. I’ve still got the Right Fore mark, but I’ve been marked again since. Blackavar – you saw him?’

‘Yes, of course.’

‘He was in that Mark. He was our friend and encouraged us. Only a night or two after the does went up to speak to the Council, he tried to run away, but he was caught. You’ve seen what they did to him. That was the same evening that your friends came: and the next night they escaped. After that, the Council sent for us does once more. The General said that no one else would have the chance to run away. We were to be split up among the Marks, no more than two to each Mark. I don’t know why they left Thethuthinnang and me together. Perhaps they didn’t stop to think. Efrafa’s like that, you know. The order was “Two to each Mark”, so as long as the order was carried out it didn’t particularly matter which two. Now I’m frightened and I feel the Council are always watching.’

‘Yes, but I’m here now,’ said Bigwig.

‘The Council are very cunning.’

‘They’ll need to be. We’ve got some rabbits who are far more cunning, believe me. El-ahrairah’s Owsla, no less. But tell me – was Nelthilta with you when you went to the Council?’

‘Oh no, she was born here, in the Near Hind. She’s got spirit, you know, but she’s young and silly. It excites her to let everyone see that she’s a friend of rabbits who are thought of as rebels. She doesn’t realize what she’s doing or what the Council are really like. It’s all a kind of game to her – to cheek the officers and so on. One day she’ll go too far and get us into trouble again. She couldn’t be trusted with a secret, on any account.’

‘How many does in this Mark would be ready to join an escape?’

‘Hrair. There’s a great deal of discontent, you know. But Thlayli, they mustn’t be told until a very short time before we run – not just Nelthilta, but all of them. No one can keep a secret in a warren and there are spies everywhere. You and I must make a plan ourselves and tell no one but Thethuthinnang. She and I will get enough does to come with us when the time comes.’

Bigwig realized that he had stumbled, quite unexpectedly, upon what he needed most of all: a strong, sensible friend, who would think on her own account and help to bear his burden.

‘I’ll leave it to you to pick the does,’ he said. ‘I can make the chance to run if you’ll have them ready to take it.’

‘When?’

‘Sunset will be best, and the sooner the better. Hazel and the others will meet us and fight any patrol that follows. But the main thing is that the bird will fight for us. Even Woundwort won’t be expecting that.’

Hyzenthlay was silent again and Bigwig realized with admiration that she was going over what he had said and searching for flaws.

‘But how many can the bird fight?’ she said at last. ‘Can he drive them all away? This is going to be a big break-out and make no mistake, Thlayli, the General himself will be after us with the best rabbits he has. We can’t go on running away for ever. They won’t lose track of us and sooner or later they’ll overtake us.’

‘I told you our rabbits were more cunning than the Council. I don’t think you’d really understand this part, however carefully I explained. Have you ever seen a river?’

‘What is a river?’

‘Well, there you are. I can’t explain. But I promise you we shan’t have to run far. We shall actually disappear before the Owsla’s eyes – if they’re there to see. I must say I’m looking forward to that.’

She said nothing and he added, ‘You must trust me, Hyzenthlay. Upon my life, we’re going to vanish. I’m not deceiving you.’

‘If you were wrong, those who died quickly would be the lucky ones.’

‘No one’s going to die. My friends have prepared a trick that El-ahrairah himself would be proud of.’

‘If it is to be at sunset,’ she said, ‘it must be tomorrow or the next night. In two days the Mark loses the evening silflay. You know that?’

‘Yes, I’d heard. Tomorrow then. Why wait longer? But there is one other thing. We’re going to take Blackavar.’

‘Blackavar? How? He is guarded by Council police.’

‘I know. It adds very much to the risk, but I’ve decided that I can’t leave him behind. What I mean to do is this. Tomorrow evening, when the Mark silflay, you and Thethuthinnang must keep the does near you – as many as you’ve got together – ready to run. I shall meet the bird a little way out in the meadow and tell him to attack the sentries as soon as he sees me go back into the hole. Then I shall come back and deal with Blackavar’s guards myself. They won’t be expecting anything of the sort. I’ll have him out in a moment and join you. There’ll be complete confusion and in that confusion we’ll run. The bird will attack anyone who tries to follow us. Remember, we go straight down to the great arch on the iron road. My friends will be waiting there. You’ve only to follow me – I’ll lead the way.’

‘Captain Campion may be on patrol.’

‘Oh, I do hope he is,’ said Bigwig. ‘I really do.’

‘Blackavar may not run at once. He will be as startled as the guards.’

‘Is it possible to warn him?’

‘No. His guards never leave him and they take him out to silflay alone.’

‘For how long will he have to live like that?’

‘When he has been to every Mark in turn, the Council will kill him. We all feel sure of that.’

‘Then that settles it. I won’t go without him.’

‘Thlayli, you are very brave. Are you cunning too? All our lives will depend on you tomorrow.’

‘Well, can you see anything wrong with the plan?’

‘No, but I am only a doe who has never been out of Efrafa. Suppose something unexpected happens?’

‘Risk is risk. Don’t you want to get out and come and live on the high downs with us? Think of it!’

‘Oh, Thlayli! Shall we mate with whom we choose and dig our own burrows and bear our litters alive?’

‘You shall: and tell stories in the Honeycomb and silflay whenever you feel like it. It’s a fine life, I promise you.’

‘I’ll come! I’ll run any risk.’

‘What a stroke of luck that you should be in this Mark,’ said Bigwig. ‘Before this talk with you tonight, I was at my wits’ end wondering whatever I was going to do.’

‘I’ll go back to the lower burrows now, Thlayli. Some of the other rabbits are bound to wonder why you sent for me. It’s not mating time with me, you see. If I go now, we can say you made a mistake and were disappointed. Don’t forget to say that.’

‘I won’t. Yes, go now, and have them ready at silflay tomorrow evening. I shan’t fail you.’

When she had gone, Bigwig felt desperately tired and lonely. He tried to hold in his mind that his friends were not far off and that he would see them again in less than a day. But he knew that all Efrafa lay between himself and Hazel. His thoughts broke up into the dismal fancies of anxiety. He fell into a half-dream, in which Captain Campion turned into a seagull and flew screaming over the river, until he woke in panic: and dozed again, to see Captain Chervil driving Blackavar before him towards a shining wire in the grass. And over all, as big as a horse in a field, aware of all that passed from one end of the world to the other, brooded the gigantic figure of General Woundwort. At last, worn out with his apprehensions, he passed into a deep sleep where even his fear could not follow, and lay without sound or movement in the solitary burrow.