25. The Raid

He went consenting, or else he was no king … It was no one’s place to say to him, ‘It is time to make the offering.’

Mary Renault The King Must Die

As things turned out, Hazel and Pipkin did not come back to the Honeycomb until the evening. They were still feeding in the field when it came on to rain, with a cold wind, and they took shelter first in the near-by ditch and then – since the ditch was on a slope and had a fair flow of rainwater in about ten minutes – among some sheds half-way down the lane. They burrowed into a thick pile of straw and for some time remained listening for rats. But all was quiet and they grew drowsy and fell asleep, while outside the rain settled in for the morning. When they woke it was mid-afternoon and still drizzling. It seemed to Hazel that there was no particular hurry. The going would be troublesome in the wet and anyway no self-respecting rabbit could leave without a forage round the sheds. A pile of mangels and swedes occupied them for some time and they set out only when the light was beginning to fade. They took their time and reached the hanger a little before dark, with nothing worse to trouble them than the discomfort of soaking wet fur. Only two or three of the rabbits were out to a rather subdued silflay in the wet. No one remarked on their absence and Hazel went underground at once, telling Pipkin to say nothing about their adventure for the time being. He found his burrow empty, lay down and fell asleep.

Waking, he found Fiver beside him as usual. It was some time before dawn. The earth floor felt pleasantly dry and snug and he was about to go back to sleep when Fiver spoke.

‘You’ve been wet through, Hazel.’

‘Well, what about it? The grass is wet, you know.’

‘You didn’t get so wet on silflay. You were soaked. You weren’t here at all yesterday, were you?’

‘Oh, I went foraging down the hill.’

‘Eating swedes: and your feet smell of farmyard – hens’ droppings and bran. But there’s some other funny thing besides – something I can’t smell. What happened?’

‘Well, I had a bit of a brush with a cat, but why worry?’

‘Because you’re concealing something, Hazel. Something dangerous.’

‘It’s Holly that’s in danger, not I. Why bother about me?’

‘Holly?’ replied Fiver in surprise. ‘But Holly and the others reached the big warren early yesterday evening. Kehaar told us. Do you mean to say you didn’t know?’

Hazel felt fairly caught out. ‘Well, I know now,’ he replied. ‘I’m glad to hear it.’

‘So it comes to this,’ said Fiver. ‘You went to a farm yesterday and escaped from a cat. And whatever you were up to, it was so much on your mind that you forgot to ask about Holly last night.’

‘Well, all right, Fiver – I’ll tell you all about it. I took Pipkin and went to that farm that Kehaar told us about, where there are rabbits in a hutch. I found the rabbits and talked to them and I’ve taken a notion to go back one night and get them out, to come and join us here.’

‘What for?’

‘Well, two of them are does, that’s what for.’

‘But if Holly’s successful we shall soon have plenty of does: and from all I’ve ever heard of hutch rabbits, they don’t take easily to wild life. The truth is, you’re just trying to be clever.’

‘Trying to be clever?’ said Hazel. ‘Well, we’ll just see whether Bigwig and Blackberry think so.’

‘Risking your life and other rabbits’ lives for something that’s of little or no value to us,’ said Fiver. ‘Oh yes, of course the others will go with you. You’re their Chief Rabbit. You’re supposed to decide what’s sensible and they trust you. Persuading them will prove nothing, but three or four dead rabbits will prove you’re a fool, when it’s too late.’

‘Oh, be quiet,’ answered Hazel. ‘I’m going to sleep.’

During silflay next morning, with Pipkin for a respectful chorus, he told the others about his visit to the farm. As he had expected, Bigwig jumped at the idea of a raid to free the hutch rabbits.

‘It can’t go wrong,’ he said. ‘It’s a splendid idea, Hazel! I don’t know how you open a hutch, but Blackberry will see to that. What annoys me is to think you ran from that cat. A good rabbit’s a match for a cat, any day. My mother went for one once and she fairly gave it something to remember, I can tell you: scratched its fur out like willow-herb in autumn! Just leave the farm cats to me and one or two of the others!’

Blackberry took a little more convincing: but he, like Bigwig and Hazel himself, was secretly disappointed not to have gone on the expedition with Holly: and when the other two pointed out that they were relying on him to tell them how to get the hutch open, he agreed to come.

‘Do we need to take everyone?’ he asked. ‘You say the dog’s tied up and I suppose there can’t be more than three cats. Too many rabbits will only be a nuisance in the dark: someone will get lost and we shall have to spend time looking for him.’

‘Well, Dandelion, Speedwell and Hawkbit then,’ said Bigwig, ‘and leave the others behind. Do you mean to go tonight, Hazel-rah?’

‘Yes, the sooner the better,’ said Hazel.’ Get hold of those three and tell them’. Pity it’s going to be dark – we could have taken Kehaar: he’d have enjoyed it.’

However, their hopes for that night were disappointed, for the rain returned before dusk, settling in on a northwest wind and carrying up the hill the sweet-sour smell of flowering privet from cottage hedges below. Hazel sat on the bank until the light had quite faded. At last, when it was clear that the rain was going to stay for the night, he joined the others in the Honeycomb. They had persuaded Kehaar to come down out of the wind and wet, and one of Dandelion’s tales of El-ahrairah was followed by an extraordinary story, that left everyone mystified but fascinated, about a time when Frith had to go away on a journey, leaving the whole world to be covered with rain. But a man built a great, floating hutch that held all the animals and birds until Frith returned and let them out.

‘It won’t happen tonight, will it, Hazel-rah?’ asked Pipkin, listening to the rain in the beech leaves outside. ‘There’s no hutch here.’

‘Kehaar’ll fly you up to the moon, Hlao-roo,’ said Bluebell, ‘and you can come down on Bigwig’s head like a birch branch in the frost. But there’s time to go to sleep first.’

Before Fiver slept, however, he talked again to Hazel about the raid.

‘I suppose it’s no good asking you not to go?’ he said.

‘Look here,’ answered Hazel, ‘have you got one of your bad turns about the farm? If you have, why not say so straight out? Then we’d all know where we were.’

‘I’ve no feelings about the farm one way or the other,’ said Fiver. ‘But that doesn’t necessarily mean it’s all right. The feelings come when they will – they don’t always come. Not for the lendri, not for the crow. If it comes to that, I’ve no idea what’s happening to Holly and the others. It might be good or bad. But there’s something that frightens me about you yourself, Hazel: just you, not any of the others. You’re all alone, sharp and clear, like a dead branch against the sky.’

‘Well, if you mean you can see trouble for me and not for any of the others, tell them and I’ll leave it to them to decide whether I ought to keep out of it. But that’s giving up a lot, Fiver, you know. Even with your word for it, someone’s bound to think I’m afraid.’

‘Well, I say it’s not worth the risk, Hazel. Why not wait for Holly to come back? That’s all we have to do.’

‘I’ll be snared if I wait for Holly. Can’t you see that the very thing I want is to have these does here when he comes back? But look, Fiver, I’ll tell you what. I’ve come to trust you so much that I’ll take the greatest care. In fact, I won’t even go into the farmyard myself. I’ll stay outside, at the top of the lane: and if that’s not meeting your fears halfway, then I don’t know what is.’

Fiver said no more and Hazel turned his thoughts to the raid and the difficulty he foresaw of getting the hutch rabbits to go the distance back to the warren.

The next day was bright and dry, with a fresh wind that cleared up what remained of the wet. The clouds came racing over the ridge from the south as they had on the May evening when Hazel first climbed the down. But now they were higher and smaller, settling at last into a mackerel sky like a beach at low tide. Hazel took Bigwig and Blackberry to the edge of the escarpment, whence they could look across to Nuthanger on its little hill. He described the approach and went on to explain how the rabbit-hutch was to be found. Bigwig was in high spirits. The wind and the prospect of action excited him and he spent some time with Dandelion, Hawkbit and Speedwell, pretending to be a cat and encouraging them to attack him as realistically as they could. Hazel, whose talk with Fiver had somewhat clouded him, recovered as he watched them tussling over the grass and ended by joining in himself, first as an attacker and then as the cat, staring and quivering for all the world like the Nuthanger tabby.

‘I shall be disappointed if we don’t meet a cat after all this,’ said Dandelion, as he waited for his turn to run at a fallen beech branch from one side, claw it twice and dash out again. ‘I feel a really dangerous animal.’

‘You vatch heem, Meester Dando,’ said Kehaar, who was hunting for snails in the grass near-by. ‘Meester Pigvig, ’e vant you t’ink all vun peeg yoke; make you prave. Cat ’e no yoke. You no see ’im, you no ’ear ’im. Den yomp! ’E come.’

‘But we’re not going there to eat, Kehaar,’ said Bigwig. ‘That makes all the difference. We shan’t stop watching for cats the whole time.’

‘Why not eat the cat?’ said Bluebell. ‘Or bring one back here for breeding? That ought to improve the warren stock no end.’

Hazel and Bigwig had decided that the raid should be carried out as soon after dark as the farm was quiet. This meant that they would cover the half mile to the outlying sheds at sunset, instead of risking the confusion of a night journey over ground that only Hazel knew. They could steal a meal among the swedes, halt till darkness and cover the short distance to the farm after a good rest. Then – provided they could cope with the cats – there would be plenty of time to tackle the hutch; whereas if they were to arrive at dawn they would be working against time before men came on the scene. Finally, the hutch rabbits would not be missed until the following morning.

‘And remember,’ said Hazel, ‘it’ll probably take these rabbits a long time to get to the down. We shall have to be patient with them. I’d rather do that in darkness, elil or no elil. We don’t want to be messing about in broad daylight.’

‘If it comes to the worst,’ said Bigwig, ‘we can leave the hutch rabbits and bolt. Elil take the hindmost, don’t they? I know it’s tough, but if there’s real trouble we ought to save our own rabbits first. Let’s hope that doesn’t happen, though.’

When they came to set out, Fiver was nowhere to be seen. Hazel felt relieved, for he had been afraid that Fiver might say something that would lower their spirits. But there was nothing worse to contend with than Pipkin’s disappointment at being left behind; and this was dispelled when Hazel assured him that the only reason was that he had already done his bit. Bluebell, Acorn and Pipkin came with them to the foot of the hill and watched them down the hedgerow.

They reached the sheds in the twilight after sunset, The summer nightfall was unbroken by owls and so quiet that they could plainly hear the intermittent, monotonous ‘Chug chug chug’ of a nightingale in the distant woods. Two rats among the swedes showed their teeth, thought better of it and left them alone. When they had foraged, they rested comfortably in the straw until the western light was quite gone.

Rabbits do not name the stars, but nevertheless Hazel was familiar with the sight of Capella rising; and he watched it now until it stood gold and bright in the dark north-eastern horizon to the right of the farm. When it reached a certain point which he had fixed, beside a bare branch, he roused the others and led them up the slope towards the elms. Near the top he slipped through the hedge and brought them down into the lane.

Hazel had already told Bigwig of his promise to Fiver to keep out of danger; and Bigwig, who had changed much since the early days, had no fault to find.

‘If that’s what Fiver says, you’d better do it, Hazel,’ he said. ‘Anyhow, it’ll suit us. You stay outside the farm in a safe place and we’ll bring the rabbits out to you: then you can take over and get us all away.’ What Hazel had not said was that the idea that he should remain in the lane was his own suggestion, and that Fiver had acquiesced only because he could not persuade him to give up the idea of the raid altogether.

Crouching under a fallen branch on the verge of the lane, Hazel watched the others as they followed Bigwig down towards the farmyard. They went slowly, rabbit-fashion, hop, step and pause. The night was dark and they were soon out of sight, though he could hear them moving down the side of the long barn. He settled down to wait.

Bigwig’s hopes of action were fulfilled almost at once. The cat that he met as he reached the far end of the barn was not Hazel’s tabby, but another; ginger, black and white (and therefore a female); one of those slim, trotting, quick-moving, tail-twitching cats that sit on farm window-sills in the rain or keep watch from the tops of sacks on sunny afternoons. It came briskly round the corner of the barn, saw the rabbits and stopped dead.

Without an instant’s hesitation Bigwig went straight for it, as though it had been the beech branch on the down. But quicker even than he Dandelion ran forward, scratched it and leapt clear. As it turned, Bigwig threw his full weight upon it from the other side. The cat closed with him, biting and scratching, and Bigwig rolled over on the ground. The others could hear him swearing like a cat himself and struggling for a hold. Then he sank one back leg into the cat’s side and kicked backwards rapidly, several times.

Anyone who is familiar with cats knows that they do not care for a determined assailant. A dog that tries to make itself pleasant to a cat may very well get scratched for its pains. But let that same dog rush in to the attack and many a cat will not wait to meet it. The farm cat was bewildered by the speed and fury of Bigwig’s charge. It was no weakling and a good ratter, but it had the bad luck to be up against a dedicated fighter who was spoiling for action. As it scrabbled out of Bigwig’s reach, Speedwell cuffed it across the face. This was the last blow struck, for the wounded cat made off across the yard and disappeared under the fence of the cow-byre.

Bigwig was bleeding from three deep, parallel scratches on the inside of one hind leg. The others gathered round, praising him, but he cut them short, looking round the dark yard as he tried to get his bearings.

‘Come on,’ he said. ‘Quickly too, while the dog’s still quiet. The shed: the hutch – where do we go?’

It was Hawkbit who found the little yard. Hazel had been anxious in case the shed door might be shut; but it stood just ajar and the five of them slipped in one after the other. In the thick gloom they could not make out the hutch, but they could both smell and hear the rabbits.

‘Blackberry,’ said Bigwig quickly, ‘you come with me and get the hutch open. You other three, keep watching. If another cat comes, you’ll have to take it on yourselves.’

‘Fine,’ said Dandelion. ‘Just leave it to us.’

Bigwig and Blackberry found the straw bale and climbed on the planks. As they did so, Boxwood spoke from the hutch.

‘Who’s that? Hazel-rah, have you come back?’

‘Hazel-rah has sent us,’ answered Blackberry. ‘We’ve come to let you out. Will you come with us?’

There was a pause and some movement in the hay and then Clover replied, ‘Yes, let us out.’

Blackberry sniffed his way round to the wire door and sat up, nosing over the frame, the hasp and the staple. It took him some time to realize that the leather hinges were soft enough to bite. Then he found that they lay so smooth and flush with the frame that he could not get his teeth to them. Several times he tried to find a grip and at last sat back on his haunches, at a loss.

‘I don’t think this door’s going to be any good,’ he said. ‘I wonder whether there’s some other way?’

At that moment it happened that Boxwood stood on his hind legs and put his front paws high on the wire. Beneath his weight the top of the door was pressed slightly outwards and the upper of the two leather hinges gave slightly where the outer nail held it to the body of the hutch itself. As Boxwood dropped back on all fours, Blackberry saw that the hinge had buckled and risen just clear of the wood.

‘Try it now,’ he said to Bigwig.

Bigwig got his teeth to the hinge and pulled. It tore a very little.

‘By Frith, that’ll do,’ said Blackberry, for all the world like the Duke of Wellington at Salamanca. ‘We just need time, that’s all.’

The hinge had been well made and did not give way until they had put it to a great deal more tugging and biting. Dandelion grew nervous and twice gave a false alarm. Bigwig, realizing that the sentries were on the jump from watching and waiting with nothing to do, changed places with him and sent Speedwell up to take over from Blackberry. When at last Dandelion and Speedwell had pulled the leather strip off the nail, Bigwig came back to the hutch himself. But they did not seem much nearer to success. Whenever one of the rabbits inside stood up and rested its fore-paws on the upper part of the wire, the door pivoted lightly on the axis of the staple and the lower hinge. But the lower hinge did not tear. Blowing through his whiskers with impatience, Bigwig brought Blackberry back from the threshold. ‘What’s to be done?’ he said. ‘We need some magic, like that lump of wood you shoved into the river.’

Blackberry looked at the door as Boxwood, inside, pushed it again. The upright of the frame pressed tight against the lower strip of leather, but it held smooth and firm, offering no purchase for teeth.

‘Push it the other way – push from this side,’ he said. ‘You push, Bigwig. Tell that rabbit inside to get down.’

When Bigwig stood up and pushed the top of the door inwards, the frame immediately pivoted much farther than before, because there was no sill along the bottom of the outer side to stop it. The leather hinge twisted and Bigwig nearly lost his balance. If it had not been for the metal water staple arresting the pivoting, he might actually have fallen inside the hutch. Startled, he jumped back, growling.

‘Well, you said magic, didn’t you?¡’ said Blackberry with satisfaction. ‘Do it again.’

No strip of leather, held by only one broad-headed nail at each end, can stand up for long to repeated twisting. Soon one of the nail-heads was almost out of sight under the frayed edges.

‘Careful now,’ said Blackberry. ‘If it gives way suddenly you’ll go flying. Just pull it off with your teeth.’

Two minutes later the door hung sagging on the staple alone. Clover pushed the hinge side open and came out, followed by Boxwood.

When several creatures – men or animals – have worked together to overcome something offering resistance and have at last succeeded there follows often a pause – as though they felt the propriety of paying respect to the adversary who has put up so good a fight. The great tree falls, splitting, cracking, rushing down in leaves to the final, shuddering blow along the ground. Then the foresters are silent, and do not at once sit down. After hours, the deep snowdrift has been cleared and the lorry is ready to take the men home out of the cold. But they stand a while, leaning on their spades and only nodding unsmilingly as the car-drivers go through, waving their thanks. The cunning hutch door had become nothing but a piece of wire netting, tacked to a frame made from four strips of half-by-half; and the rabbits sat on the planks, sniffing and nosing it without talking. After a little while the other two occupants of the hutch, Laurel and Haystack, came hesitantly out and looked about them.

‘Where is Hazel-rah?’ asked Laurel.

‘Not far away,’ said Blackberry. ‘He’s waiting in the lane.’

‘What is the lane?’

‘The lane?’ said Blackberry in surprise. ‘Surely –’

He stopped as it came over him that these rabbits knew neither lane nor farmyard. They had not the least idea of their most immediate surroundings. He was reflecting on what this meant when Bigwig spoke.

‘We mustn’t wait about now,’ he said. ‘Follow me, all of you.’

‘But where?’ said Boxwood.

‘Well, out of here, of course,’ said Bigwig impatiently.

Boxwood looked about him. ‘I don’t know –’ he began.

‘Well, I do,’ said Bigwig. ‘Just come with us. Never mind anything else.’

The hutch rabbits looked at each other in bewilderment. It was plain that they were afraid of the great, bristling buck, with his strange shock of fur and his smell of fresh blood. They did not know what to do or understand what was expected of them. They remembered Hazel; they had been excited by the forcing of the door and curious to come through it once it was open. Otherwise, they had no purpose whatever and no means of forming one. They had no more idea of what was involved than a small child who says he will accompany the climbers up the fell.

Blackberry’s heart sank. What was to be done with them? Left to themselves, they would hop slowly about the shed and the yard until the cats got them. Of their own accord they could no more run to the hills than fly to the moon. Was there no simple, plain idea that might get them – or some of them – on the move? He turned to Clover.

‘I don’t suppose you’ve ever eaten grass by night,’ he said. ‘It tastes much better than by day. Let’s all go and have some, shall we?’

‘Oh yes,’ said Clover, ‘I’d like that. But will it be safe? We’re all very much afraid of the cats, you know. They come and stare at us sometimes through the wire and it makes us shiver.’

This showed at least the beginnings of sense, thought Blackberry.

‘The big rabbit is a match for any cat,’ he replied. ‘He nearly killed one on the way here tonight.’

‘And he doesn’t want to fight another if he can help it,’ said Bigwig briskly.’ So if you do want to eat grass by moonlight, let’s go to where Hazel’s waiting for us.’

As Bigwig led the way into the yard, he could make out the shape of the cat that he had beaten, watching from the woodpile. Cat-like, it was fascinated by the rabbits and could not leave them alone, but it evidently had no stomach for another fight and as they crossed the yard it stayed where it was.

The pace was frighteningly slow. Boxwood and Clover seemed to have grasped that there was some sort of urgency and were clearly doing their best to keep up, but the other two rabbits, once they had hopped into the yard, sat up and looked about them in a foolish manner, completely at a loss. After a good deal of delay, during which the cat left the wood-pile and began to move stealthily round towards the side of the shed, Blackberry managed to get them out into the farmyard. But here, finding themselves in an even more open place, they settled into a kind of static panic, like that which sometimes comes upon inexperienced climbers exposed on a sheer face. They could not move, but sat blinking and staring about them in the darkness, taking no notice of Blackberry’s coaxing or Bigwig’s orders. At this moment a second cat – Hazel’s tabby – came round the farther end of the farmhouse and made towards them. As it passed the kennel the Labrador woke and sat up, thrusting out its head and shoulders and looking first to one side and then the other. It saw the rabbits, ran to the length of its rope and began to bark.

‘Come on!’ said Bigwig. ‘We can’t stay here. Up the lane, everybody, and quickly too.’ Blackberry, Speedwell and Hawkbit ran at once, taking Boxwood and Clover with them into the darkness under the barn. Dandelion remained beside Haystack, begging her to move and expecting every moment to feel the cat’s claws in his back. Bigwig leapt across to him.

‘Dandelion,’ he said in his ear, ‘get out of it, unless you want to be killed!’

‘But the –’ began Dandelion.

‘Do as I say!’ said Bigwig. The noise of barking was fearful and he himself was close to panic. Dandelion hesitated a moment longer. Then he left Haystack and shot up the lane, with Bigwig beside him.

They found the others gathered round Hazel, under the bank. Boxwood and Clover were trembling and seemed exhausted. Hazel was talking to them reassuringly, but broke off as Bigwig appeared out of the dark. The dog stopped barking and there was quiet.

‘We’re all here,’ said Bigwig. ‘Shall we go, Hazel?’

‘But there were four hutch-rabbits,’ said Hazel. ‘Where are the other two?’

‘In the farmyard,’ said Blackberry. ‘We couldn’t do anything with them: and then the dog began to bark.’

‘Yes, I heard it. You mean they’re loose?’

‘They’ll be a lot looser soon,’ said Bigwig angrily. ‘The cats are there.’

‘Why did you leave them, then?’

‘Because they wouldn’t move. It was bad enough before the dog started.’

‘Is the dog tied?’ asked Hazel.

‘Yes, it’s tied. But do you expect any rabbit to stand his ground a few feet from an angry dog?’

‘No, of course not,’ replied Hazel. ‘You’ve done wonders, Bigwig. They were just telling me, before you came, that you gave one of the cats such a beating that it was afraid to come back for more. Now look, do you think you and Blackberry, with Speedwell here and Hawkbit, can get these two rabbits back to the warren? I’m afraid you may need most of the night. They can’t go very fast and you’ll have to be patient with them. Dandelion, you come with me, will you?’

‘Where, Hazel-rah?’

‘To fetch the other two,’ said Hazel. ‘You’re the fastest, so it won’t be so dangerous for you, will it? Now, don’t hang about, Bigwig, there’s a good fellow. I’ll see you tomorrow.’

Before Bigwig could reply he had disappeared under the elms. Dandelion remained where he was, looking at Bigwig uncertainly.

‘Are you going to do what he says?’ asked Bigwig.

‘Well, are you?’ said Dandelion.

It took Bigwig no more than a moment to realize that if he said he was not, complete disorganization would follow. He could not take all the others back into the farm, and he could not leave them alone. He muttered something about Hazel being too embleer clever by half, cuffed Hawkbit off a sow-thistle he was nibbling and led his five rabbits over the bank into the field. Dandelion, left alone, set off after Hazel into the farmyard.

As he went down the side of the barn, he could hear Hazel out in the open, near the doe Haystack. Neither of the hutch rabbits had moved from where he and Bigwig had left them. The dog had returned to its kennel; but although it was not to be seen, he felt that it was awake and watchful. He came cautiously out of the shadow and approached Hazel.

‘I’m just having a chat with Haystack here,’ said Hazel. ‘I’ve been explaining that we’ve got a little way to go. Do you think you could hop across to Laurel and get him to join us?’

He spoke almost gaily, but Dandelion could see his dilated eyes and the slight trembling of his front paws. He himself was now sensing something peculiar – a kind of luminosity – in the air. There seemed to be a curious vibration somewhere in the distance. He looked round for the cats and saw that, as he feared, both were crouching in front of the farmhouse a little way off. Their reluctance to come closer could be attributed to Bigwig: but they would not go away. Looking across the yard at them, Dandelion felt a sudden clutch of horror.

‘Hazel!’ he whispered. ‘The cats! Dear Frith, why are their eyes glittering green like that? Look!’

Hazel sat up quickly and as he did so Dandelion leapt back in real terror, for Hazel’s eyes were shining a deep, glowing red in the dark. At that moment the humming vibration grew louder, quenching the rushing of the night breeze in the elms. Then all four rabbits sat as though transfixed by the sudden, blinding light that poured over them like a cloud-burst. Their very instinct was numbed in this terrible glare. The dog barked and then became silent once more. Dandelion tried to move but could not. The awful brightness seemed to cut into his brain.

The car, which had driven up the lane and over the brow under the elms, came on a few more yards and stopped.

‘Lucy’s rabbits is out, look!’

‘Ah! Best get ’un in quick. Leave loights on!’

The sound of men’s voices, from somewhere beyond the fierce light, brought Hazel to his senses. He could not see, but nothing, he realized, had happened to his hearing or his nose. He shut his eyes and at once knew where he was.

‘Dandelion! Haystack! Shut your eyes and run,’ he said. A moment later he smelt the lichen and cool moisture of one of the staddle-stones. He was under the barn. Dandelion was hear him and a little farther away was Haystack. Outside the men’s boots scraped and grated over the stones.

‘That’s it! Get round be’ind ’un.’

‘ ’E won’t go far!’

‘Pick ’n up then!’

Hazel moved across to Haystack. ‘I’m afraid we’ll have to leave Laurel,’ he said. ‘Just follow me.’

Keeping under the raised floor of the barn, they all three scuttled back towards the elm trees. The men’s voices were left behind. Coming out into the grass near the lane, they found the darkness behind the headlights full of the fumes of exhaust – a hostile, choking smell that added to their confusion. Haystack sat down once more and could not be persuaded to move.

‘Shouldn’t we leave her, Hazel-rah?’ asked Dandelion. ‘After all, the men won’t hurt her – they’ve caught Laurel and taken him back to the hutch.’

‘If it was a buck, I’d say yes,’ said Hazel. ‘But we need this doe. That’s what we came for.’

At this moment they caught the smell of burning white sticks and heard the men returning up the farmyard. There was a metallic bumping as they rummaged in the car. The sound seemed to rouse Haystack. She looked round at Dandelion.

‘I don’t want to go back to the hutch,’ she said.

‘You’re sure?’ asked Dandelion.

‘Yes. I’ll go with you.’

Dandelion immediately turned for the hedgerow. It was only when he crossed it and reached the ditch beyond that he realized that he was on the opposite side of the lane from that on which they had first approached. He was in a strange ditch. However, there seemed to be nothing to worry about – the ditch led down the slope and that was the way home. He moved slowly along it, waiting for Hazel to join them.

Hazel had crossed the lane a few moments after Dandelion and Haystack. Behind him, he heard the men moving away from the hrududu. As he topped the bank, the beam of a torch shone up the lane and picked out his red eyes and white tail disappearing into the hedge.

‘There’s ol’ woild rabbit, look!’

‘Ah! Reckon rest of ours ain’t s’ far off. Got up there with ’un, see? Best go’n ’ave a look.’

In the ditch, Hazel overtook Haystack and Dandelion under a clump of brambles.

‘Get on quickly if you can,’ he said to Haystack. ‘The men are just behind.’

‘We can’t get on, Hazel,’ said Dandelion, ‘without leaving the ditch. It’s blocked.’

Hazel sniffed ahead. Immediately beyond the brambles, the ditch was closed by a pile of earth, weeds and rubbish. They would have to come into the open. Already the men were over the bank and the torch-light was flickering up and down the hedgerow and through the brambles above their very heads. Then, only a few yards away, footfalls vibrated along the edge of the ditch. Hazel turned to Dandelion.

‘Listen,’ he said, ‘I’m going to run across the corner of the field, from this ditch to the other one, so that they see me. They’ll try to shine that light on me for sure. While they’re doing that, you and Haystack climb the bank, get into the lane and run down to the swede-shed. You can hide there and I’ll join you. Ready?’

There was no time to argue. A moment later Hazel broke almost under the men’s feet and ran across the field.

‘There’e goes!’

‘Keep torch on ’un, then. Noice and steady!’

Dandelion and Haystack scrambled over the bank and dropped into the lane. Hazel, with the torch-beam behind him, had almost reached the other ditch when he felt a sharp blow on one of his hind legs and a hot, stinging pain along his side. The report of the cartridge sounded an instant later. As he somersaulted into a clump of nettles in the ditch-bottom, he remembered vividly the scent of bean-flowers at sunset. He had not known that the men had a gun.

Hazel crawled through the nettles, dragging his injured leg. In a few moments the men would shine their torch on him and pick him up. He stumbled along the inner wall of the ditch, feeling the blood flowing over his foot. Suddenly he was aware of a draught against one side of his nose, a smell of damp, rotten matter and a hollow, echoing sound at his very ear. He was beside the mouth of a land-drain which emptied into the ditch – a smooth, cold tunnel, narrower than a rabbit-hole, but wide enough. With flattened ears and belly pressed to the wet floor he crawled up it, pushing a little pile of thin mud in front of him, and lay still as he felt the thud of boots coming nearer.

‘I don’ roightly know, John, whether you ’it ’e er not.’

‘Ah, I ’it ’un all roight. That’s blood down there, see?’

‘Ah well, but that don’t signify. ’E might be a long ways off be now. I reckon you’ve lost ’e.’

‘I reckon ’e’s in them nettles.’

‘ ’Ave a look then.’

‘No ’e ain’t.’

‘Well, us can’t go beggarin’ up and down ’ere ’alf bloody night. We got to catch them as got out th’utch. Didn’t ought ’ave fired be roights, John. Froightened they off, see? You c’n ’ave a look for ’im tomorrow, if ’e’s ’ere.’

The silence returned, but still Hazel lay motionless in the whispering chill of the tunnel. A cold lassitude came over him and he passed into a dreaming, inert stupor, full of cramp and pain. After a time, a thread of blood began to trickle over the lip of the drain into the trampled, deserted ditch.

Bigwig, crouched close to Blackberry in the straw of the cattle-shed, leapt to flight at the sound of the shot two hundred yards up the lane. He checked himself and turned to the others.

‘Don’t run!’ he said quickly. ‘Where do you want to run to, anyway? No holes here.’

‘Farther away from the gun,’ replied Blackberry, white-eyed.

‘Wait!’ said Bigwig, listening. ‘They’re running down the lane. Can’t you hear them?’

‘I can hear only two rabbits,’ answered Blackberry, after a pause, ‘and one of them sounds exhausted.’

They looked at each other and waited. Then Bigwig got up again.

‘Stay here, all of you,’ he said. ‘I’ll go and bring them in.’

Out on the verge he found Dandelion urging Haystack, who was lamed and spent.

‘Come in here quickly,’ said Bigwig. ‘For Frith’s sake, where’s Hazel?’

‘The men have shot him,’ replied Dandelion.

They reached the other five rabbits in the straw. Dandelion did not wait for their questions.

‘They’ve shot Hazel,’ he said.’ They’d caught that Laurel and put him back in the hutch. Then they came after us. The three of us were at the end of a blocked ditch. Hazel went out of his own accord, to distract their attention while we got away. But we didn’t know they had a gun.’

‘Are you sure they killed him?’ said Speedwell.

‘I didn’t actually see him hit, but they were very close to him.’

‘We’d better wait,’ said Bigwig.

They waited a long time. At last Blackberry and Bigwig went cautiously back up the lane. They found the bottom of the ditch trampled by boots and streaked with blood, and returned to tell the others.

The journey back, with the three limping hutch rabbits, lasted more than two weary hours. All were dejected and wretched. When at last they reached the foot of the down Bigwig told Blackberry, Speedwell and Hawkbit to leave them and go on to the warren. They approached the wood just at first light and a rabbit ran to meet them through the wet grass. It was Fiver. Blackberry stopped and waited beside him while the other two went on in silence.

‘Fiver,’ he said, ‘there’s bad news. Hazel –’

‘I know,’ replied Fiver. ‘I know now.’

‘How do you know?’ asked Blackberry, startled.

‘As you came through the grass just now,’ said Fiver, very low, ‘there was a fourth rabbit behind you, limping and covered with blood. I ran to see who it was, and then there were only three of you, side by side.’

He paused and looked across the down, as though still seeking the bleeding rabbit who had vanished in the half-light. Then, as Blackberry said nothing more, he asked, ‘Do you know what happened?’

When Blackberry had told his news, Fiver returned to the warren and went underground to his empty burrow. A little later, Bigwig brought the hutch rabbits up the hill and at once called everyone to meet in the Honeycomb. Fiver did not appear.

It was a dismal welcome for the strangers. Not even Bluebell could find a cheerful word. Dandelion was inconsolable to think that he might have stopped Hazel breaking from the ditch. The meeting came to an end in a dreary silence and a half-hearted silflay.

Later that morning Holly came limping into the warren. Of his three companions, only Silver was alert and unharmed. Buckthorn was wounded in the face and Strawberry was shivering and evidently ill from exhaustion. There were no other rabbits with them.