Authors: Richard Adams
"Get the holes filled in!" gasped Holly. "Get everyone underground! There's not a moment to lose." His eyes rolled white and he panted foam over his chin.
"Is it men, or what? There's nothing to be seen, heard or smelled. Come on, tell us something and stop gibbering, there's a good chap."
"It'll have to be quick, then," said Holly. "That combe--it's full of rabbits from Efrafa."
"From Efrafa? Fugitives, do you mean?"
"No," said Holly, "not fugitives. Campion's there. We ran right into him and three or four more that Blackavar recognized. I believe Woundwort's there himself. They've come for us--don't make any mistake about that."
"You're sure it's more than a patrol?"
"I'm certain," answered Holly. "We could smell them; and we heard them, too--below us in the combe. We wondered what so many rabbits could be doing there and we were going down to see when we suddenly came face to face with Campion. We looked at him and he looked at us and then I realized what it must mean and we turned and ran. He didn't follow us--probably because he'd had no orders. But how long will it take them to get here?"
Blackavar had returned from underground, bringing Silver and Blackberry.
"We ought to leave at once, sir," he said to Hazel. "We might be able to get quite a long way before they come."
Hazel looked about him. "Anyone who wants to go can go," he said. "I shan't. We made this warren ourselves and Frith only knows what we've been through on account of it. I'm not going to leave it now."
"Neither am I," said Bigwig. "If I'm for the Black Rabbit, there's one or two from Efrafa will come with me."
There was a short silence.
"Holly's right to want to stop the holes," went on Hazel. "It's the best thing to do. We fill the holes in, good and thorough. Then they have to dig us out. The warren's deep. It's under a bank, with tree roots all through it and over the top. How long can all those rabbits stay on the down without attracting elil? They'll have to give it up."
"You don't know these Efrafans," said Blackavar. "My mother used to tell me what happened at Nutley Copse. It would be better to go now."
"Well, go on, then," answered Hazel. "I'm not stopping you. And I'm not leaving this warren. It's my home." He looked at Hyzenthlay, heavy with young, who was sitting in the mouth of the nearest hole and listening to the talk. "How far do you think
she'll
get? And Clover--do we leave her or what?"
"No, we must stay," said Strawberry. "I believe El-ahrairah will save us from this Woundwort; and if he doesn't, I'm not going back to Efrafa, I'll tell you that."
"Fill in the holes," said Hazel.
As the sun set, the rabbits fell to clawing and scrabbling in the runs. The sides were hard with the hot weather. It was not easy to get started, and when the soil began to fall, it was light and powdery and did little to block the holes. It was Blackberry who hit upon the idea of working outward from inside the Honeycomb itself, scratching down the ceilings of the runs where they came into the meeting hall and blocking the holes by breaking the underground walls into them. One run, leading up into the wood, was left open for coming and going. It was the one where Kehaar used to shelter and the lobby at the mouth was still cluttered with guano. As Hazel passed the place, it occurred to him that Woundwort did not know that Kehaar had left them. He dug out as much of the mess as he could and scattered it about. Then, as the work went on below, he squatted on the bank and watched the darkening eastern skyline.
His thoughts were very sad. Indeed, they were desperate. Although he had spoken resolutely in front of the others, he knew only too well how little hope there was of saving the warren from the Efrafans. They knew what they were doing. No doubt they had their methods of breaking into a closed warren. It was the faintest of chances that elil would disperse them. Most of the Thousand hunted rabbits for food. A stoat or a fox took a rabbit and took no more until it was ready to hunt again. But the Efrafans were accustomed to a death here and there. Unless General Woundwort himself were killed, they would stay until the job was done. Nothing would stop them, short of some unexpected catastrophe.
But suppose that he himself were to go and talk to Woundwort? Might there not just possibly be a chance of getting him to see sense? Whatever had happened at Nutley Copse, the Efrafans could not fight to the finish against rabbits like Bigwig, Holly and Silver without losing lives--probably a good many lives. Woundwort must know this. Perhaps it might not be too late, even now, to persuade him to agree to a new plan--a plan that would be as good for one warren as the other.
"And perhaps it might be," thought Hazel grimly. "But it's a possible chance and so I'm afraid the Chief Rabbit has got to take it. And since this savage brute is probably not to be trusted, I suppose the Chief Rabbit must go alone."
He returned to the Honeycomb and found Bigwig.
"I'm off to talk to General Woundwort, if I can get hold of him," he said. "You're Chief Rabbit until I come back. Keep them at it."
"But, Hazel," said Bigwig, "wait a moment. It's not safe--"
"I shan't be long," said Hazel. "I'm just going to ask him what he's up to."
A moment later he was down the bank and limping up the track, pausing from time to time to sit up and look about him for an Efrafan patrol.
43.
The Great Patrol
What is the world, O soldiers?
It is I.
I, this incessant snow,
This northern sky;
Soldiers, this solitude
Through which we go
Is I.
Walter de la Mare,
Napoleon
When the punt floated down the river in the rain, part of General Woundwort's authority went with it. He could not have appeared more openly and completely at a loss if Hazel and his companions had flown away over the trees. Until that very moment he had shown up strongly, a most formidable adversary. His officers had been demoralized by Kehaar's unexpected attack. He had not. On the contrary, he had kept up the pursuit in spite of Kehaar and had actually carried out a scheme to cut off the fugitives' retreat. Cunning and resourceful in adversity, he had nearly succeeded in hurting the gull when he leaped at him out of the close cover by the plank bridge. Then, when he had his quarry cornered in a place where Kehaar could not have done a great deal to help them, they had suddenly shown their own cunning greater than his, and left him bewildered on the bank. He had overheard the very word--tharn--spoken by one of his officers to another as they returned to Efrafa through the rain. Thlayli, Blackavar and the does of the Near Hind had vanished. He had tried to stop them and he had conspicuously failed.
For a great part of that night Woundwort remained awake, considering what was best to be done. The following day he called a Council meeting. He pointed out that it would be no good taking an expedition down the river to look for Thlayli unless it were strong enough to defeat him if it found him. That would mean taking several officers and a number of the Owsla. There would be the risk of trouble at home while they were away. There might be another break-out. The odds were that they would not find Thlayli at all, for there would be no trail and they did not know where to search for him. If they did not find him, they would look even bigger fools when they came back.
"And fools we look now," said Woundwort. "Make no mistake about that. Vervain will tell you what the Marks are saying--that Campion was chased into the ditch by the white bird and Thlayli called down lightning from the sky and Frith knows what besides."
"The best thing," said old Snowdrop, "will be to say as little about it as possible. Let it blow over. They've got short memories."
"There's one thing I think worth doing," said Woundwort. "We know now that there was one place where we
did
find Thlayli and his gang, only nobody realized it at the time. That was when Mallow was after them with his patrol, just before he was killed by the fox. Something tells me that where they were once, there they'll be again, sooner or later.
"But we can hardly stay out there with enough rabbits to fight them, sir," said Groundsel, "and it would mean digging in and living there for some time."
"I agree with you," replied Woundwort. "A patrol will be stationed there continuously until further notice. They'll dig scrapes and live there. They'll be relieved every two days. If Thlayli comes, he's to be watched and followed secretly. When we know where he's taken the does, then we may be able to deal with him. And I'll tell you this," he ended, glaring round at them with his great, pale eyes. "If we
do
find out where he is, I shall be ready to go to a great deal of trouble. I told Thlayli I'd kill him myself. He may have forgotten that, but I haven't."
Woundwort led the first patrol in person, taking Groundsel to show him where Mallow had picked up the strangers' southward trail. They dug scrapes among the scrub along the edge of Caesar's Belt and waited. After two days their hopes were lower. Vervain relieved Woundwort. He was relieved two days later by Campion. By this time there were captains in the Owsla who said privately to each other that the General was in the grip of an obsession. Some way would have to be found of getting him to drop it before it went too far. At the Council meeting the next evening it was suggested that the patrol should be discontinued in two days' time. Woundwort, snarling, told them to wait and see. An argument began, behind which he sensed more opposition than he had ever encountered before. In the middle of this, with a dramatic effect that could not have been better timed from the General's point of view, Campion and his patrol came in, dead beat, with the report that they had met Thlayli and his rabbits exactly where
Woundwort had said they would. Unseen, they had followed them to the warren, which, though a long way off, was not too distant to be attacked, especially since no time would have to be spent in searching for it. It did not appear to be very large and could probably be surprised.
The news put an end to all opposition and brought both Council and Owsla back under Woundwort's undisputed control. Several of the officers were for starting at once, but Woundwort, now that he was sure of his followers and his enemy, took his time. Having learned from Campion that he had actually come face to face with Thlayli, Blackavar and the rest, he decided to wait some little while, in case they might be on their guard. Besides, he wanted time both to reconnoiter the way to Watership and to organize the expedition. His idea was that, if possible, they should make the journey in one day. This would forestall any possible rumors of their approach. To satisfy himself that they could do this and still be fit to fight when they arrived, he took Campion and two others, and himself covered the three and a half miles to the down east of Watership. Here, he grasped at once the best way to approach the beech hanger without being seen or smelled. The prevailing wind was westerly, as at Efrafa. They would arrive at evening and then assemble and rest in the combe south of Cannon Heath Down. As soon as twilight fell and Thlayli and his rabbits had gone underground, they would come along the ridge and attack the warren. With luck, there would be no warning whatever. They would be safe for the night in the captured warren and the following day he himself and Vervain would be able to return to Efrafa. The remainder, under Campion, could have a day's rest and then make their way back with the does and any other prisoners there might be. The whole thing could be finished in three days.
It would be best not to take too many rabbits. Anyone not strong enough to go the distance and then fight would only be a nuisance. In the event, speed might turn out to be everything. The slower the journey, the more dangerous it would be, and stragglers would attract elil and discourage the rest. Besides, as Woundwort very well knew, his leadership was going to be vital. Every rabbit would need to feel that he was close to the General; and if he felt himself one of a picked band as well, that would be all to the good.
The rabbits to go were chosen most carefully. There were in fact about twenty-six or -seven of them, half Owsla and the rest promising youngsters recommended by their Mark officers. Woundwort believed in emulation and he let it be known that there would be plenty of chances to win rewards. Campion and Chervil were kept busy taking out endurance patrols, and tussles and training fights were organized at morning silflay. The members of the expedition were excused all sentry duties and allowed to silflay whenever they wished.