37. The Thunder Builds Up

Youk’n hide de fier, but w’at you gwine do wid de smoke?

Joel Chandler Harris Proverbs of Uncle Remus

Bigwig’s first impulse was to fight Woundwort on the spot. He realized immediately that this would be futile and would only bring the whole place round his ears. There was nothing to do but obey. He followed Woundwort through the undergrowth and into the shade of the bridle-path. Despite the sunset, the evening seemed heavy with cloud and among the trees it was sultry and grey. The thunder was building up. He looked at Woundwort and waited.

‘You were out of the Near Hind burrows this afternoon?’ began Woundwort.

‘Yes, sir,’ replied Bigwig. He still disliked addressing Woundwort as ‘sir’, but since he was supposed to be an Efrafan officer, he could not very well do otherwise. However, he did not add that Chervil had given him permission. He had not been accused of anything as yet.

‘Where did you go?’

Bigwig swallowed his annoyance. No doubt Woundwort knew perfectly well where he had been.

‘I went to the Left Flank Mark, sir. I was in their burrows.’

‘Why did you go?’

‘To pass the time and learn something from listening to the officers.’

‘Did you go anywhere else?’

‘No, sir.’

‘You met one of the Left Flank Owsla – a rabbit named Groundsel.’

‘Very likely, I didn’t learn all their names.’

‘Have you ever seen that rabbit before?’

‘No, sir. How could I?’

There was a pause.

‘May I ask what this is all about, sir?’ said Bigwig.

‘I’ll ask the questions,’ said Woundwort. ‘Groundsel has seen you before. He knew you by the fur on your head. Where do you think he saw you?’

‘I’ve no idea.’

‘Have you ever run from a fox?’

‘Yes, sir, a few days ago, while I was coming here.’

‘You led it on to some other rabbits and it killed one of them. Is that correct?’

‘I didn’t intend to lead it on to them. I didn’t know they were there.’

‘You didn’t tell us anything about this?’

‘It never occurred to me. There’s nothing wrong in running from a fox.’

‘You’ve caused the death of an Efrafan officer.’

‘Quite by accident. And the fox might have got him anyway, even if I’d not been there.’

‘It wouldn’t,’ said Woundwort. ‘Mallow wasn’t the rabbit to run on to a fox. Foxes aren’t dangerous, to rabbits who know their business.’

‘I’m sorry the fox got him, sir. It was a stroke of very bad luck.’

Woundwort stared at him out of his great, pale eyes.

‘Then one more question, Thlayli. That patrol was on the track of a band of rabbits – strangers. What do you know about them?’

‘I saw their tracks too, about that time. I can’t tell you any more than that.’

‘You weren’t with them?’

‘If I’d been with them, sir, would I have come to Efrafa?’

‘I told you I’d ask the questions. You can’t tell me where they might have gone?’

‘I’m afraid I can’t, sir.’

Woundwort stopped staring and sat silent for some time. Bigwig felt that the General was waiting for him to ask if that was all and whether he could now go. He determined to remain silent himself.

‘Now there’s another thing,’ said Woundwort at last. ‘About this white bird in the field this morning. You’re not afraid of these birds?’

‘No, sir. I’ve never heard of one hurting a rabbit.’

‘But they have been known to, for all your wide experience, Thlayli. Anyway, why did you go near it?’

Bigwig thought quickly. ‘To tell you the truth, sir, I think I may have been trying to make an impression on Captain Chervil.’

‘Well, you could have a worse reason. But if you’re going to impress anyone, you’d better start with me. The day after tomorrow, I’m taking out a Wide Patrol myself. It will cross the iron road and try to pick up traces of those rabbits – the rabbits Mallow would have found if you hadn’t gone and blundered into him. So you’d better come along and show us how good you are then.’

‘Very well, sir; I shall be glad to.’

There was another silence. This time Bigwig decided to make as if to go. He did so, and immediately a fresh question stopped him short.

‘When you were with Hyzenthlay, did she tell you why she was put into the Near Hind Mark?’

‘Yes, sir.’

‘I’m not at all sure the trouble’s over there, Thlayli. Keep an eye on it. If she’ll talk to you, so much the better. Perhaps those does are settling down and perhaps they aren’t. I want to know.’

‘Very well, sir,’ said Bigwig.

‘That’s all,’ said Woundwort. ‘You’d better get back to your Mark now.’

Bigwig made his way into the field. The silflay was almost over, the sun had set and it was growing dark. Heavy clouds dimmed the after-light. Kehaar was nowhere to be seen. The sentries came in and the Mark began to go underground. Sitting alone in the grass, he waited until the last rabbit had disappeared. There was still no sign of Kehaar. He hopped slowly to the hole. Entering, he knocked into one of the police escort, who was blocking the mouth to make sure that Blackavar did not try to bolt as he was taken down.

‘Get out of my way, you dirty little tale-bearing bloodsucker,’ said Bigwig. ‘Now go and report that,’ he added over his shoulder, as he went down to his burrow.

As the light faded from the thick sky, Hazel slipped once more across the hard, bare earth under the railway arch, came out on the north side and sat up to listen. A few moments later Fiver joined him and they crept a little way into the field, towards Efrafa. The air was close and warm and smelt of rain and ripening barley. There was no sound close by, but behind and below them, from the water-meadow on the nearer bank of the Test, came faintly the shrill, incessant fussing of a pair of sandpipers. Kehaar flew down from the top of the embankment.

‘You’re sure he said tonight?’ asked Hazel for the third time.

‘Ees bad,’ said Kehaar. ‘Maybe dey catch ‘im. Ees finish Meester Pigvig. You t’ink?’

Hazel made no reply.

‘I can’t tell,’ said Fiver.’ Clouds and thunder. That place up the field – it’s like the bottom of a river. Anything could be happening in there.’

‘Bigwig’s there. Suppose he’s dead? Suppose they’re trying to make him tell them –’

‘Hazel,’ said Fiver. ‘Hazel-rah, you won’t help him by staying here in the dark and worrying. Quite likely there’s nothing wrong. He’s just had to sit tight for some reason. Anyway, he won’t come tonight – that’s certain now – and our rabbits are in danger here. Kehaar can go up tomorrow at dawn and bring us another message.’

‘I dare say you’re right,’ said Hazel, ‘but I hate to go. Just suppose he were to come. Let Silver take them back and I’ll stay here.’

‘You couldn’t do any good by yourself, Hazel, even if your leg was all right. You’re trying to eat grass that isn’t there. Why don’t you give it a chance to grow?’

They returned under the arch and as Silver came out of the bushes to meet them, they could hear the other rabbits stirring uneasily among the nettles.

‘We’ll have to give it up for tonight, Silver,’ said Hazel. ‘We must get them back over the river now, before it’s completely dark.’

‘Hazel-rah,’ said Pipkin, as he slipped by, ‘it – it is going to be all right, isn’t it? Bigwig will come tomorrow, won’t he?’

‘Of course he will,’ said Hazel, ‘and we’ll all be here to help him. And I’ll tell you something else, Hlao-roo. If he doesn’t come tomorrow, I’m going into Efrafa myself.’

‘I’ll come with you, Hazel-rah,’ said Pipkin.

Bigwig crouched in his burrow, pressed against Hyzenthlay. He was trembling, but not with cold: the stuffy runs of the Mark were dense with thunder: the air felt like a deep drift of leaves. Bigwig was close to utter nervous exhaustion. Since leaving General Woundwort, he had become more and more deeply entangled in all the age-old terrors of the conspirator. How much had Woundwort discovered? Clearly, there was no information that failed to reach him. He knew that Hazel and the rest had come from the north and crossed the iron road. He knew about the fox. He knew that a gull, which should have been far away at this time of year, was hanging round Efrafa and that he, Bigwig, had deliberately been near it. He knew that Bigwig had made a friend of Hyzenthlay. How long could it be before he took the final step of fitting all these things together? Perhaps he had already done so and was merely waiting to arrest them in his own time?

Woundwort had every advantage. He sat secure at the junction of all paths, seeing clearly down each, while he, Bigwig, ludicrous in his efforts to measure up to him as an enemy, clambered clumsily and ignorantly through the undergrowth, betraying himself with every movement He did not know how to get in touch with Kehaar again. Even if he managed to do so, would Hazel be able to bring the rabbits a second time? Perhaps they had already been spotted by Campion on patrol? To speak to Blackavar would be suspect. To go near Kehaar would be suspect. Through more holes than he could possible stop, his secret was leaking – pouring – out.

There was worse to come.

‘Thlayli,’ whispered Hyzenthlay, ‘do you think you and I and Thethuthinnang could get away tonight? If we fought the sentry at the mouth of the run we might be able to get clear before a patrol could start after us.’

‘Why?’ asked Bigwig. ‘What makes you ask that?’

‘I’m frightened. We told the other does, you see, just before the silflay. They were ready to run when the bird attacked the sentries, and then nothing happened. They all know about the plan – Nelthilta and the rest – and it can’t be long before the Council find out. Of course we’ve told them that their lives depend on keeping quiet and that you’re going to try again. Thethuthinnang’s watching them now: she says she’ll do her best not to sleep. But no secret can be kept in Efrafa. It’s even possible that one of the does is a spy, although Frith knows we chose them as carefully as we could. We may all be arrested before tomorrow morning.’

Bigwig tried to think clearly. He could certainly succeed in getting out with a couple of resolute, sensible does. But the sentry – unless he could kill him – would raise the alarm at once and he could not be sure of finding the way to the river in the dark. Even if he did, it was possible that the pursuit might follow him over the plank bridge and into the middle of his unprepared, sleeping friends. And at the best he would have come out of Efrafa with no more than a couple of does, because his nerve had failed. Silver and the others would not know what he had had to endure. They would know only that he had run away.

‘No, we mustn’t give up yet,’ he said, as gently as he could. ‘It’s the thunder and the waiting that make you feel so much upset. Listen, I promise you that by this time tomorrow you’ll be out of Efrafa for ever and the others with you. Now go to sleep here for a little while and then go back and help Thethuthinnang. Keep thinking of those high downs and all that I told you. We’ll get there – our troubles won’t last much longer.’

As she fell asleep beside him, Bigwig wondered how on earth he was going to fulfil this promise and whether they would be woken by the Council police. ‘If we are,’ he thought,’ I’ll fight until they tear me to bits. They’ll make no Blackavar out of me.’

When he woke, he found that he was alone in the burrow. For a moment he wondered whether Hyzenthlay had been arrested. Then he felt sure that the Owslafa could not have removed her while he slept. She must have woken and slipped back to Thethuthinnang without disturbing him.

It was a little before dawn, but the oppression in the air had not lessened. He slipped up the run to the entrance. Moneywort, the sentry on duty, was peering uneasily out of the mouth of the hole, but turned as he approached.

‘I wish it would rain, sir,’ he said. ‘The thunder’s enough to turn the grass sour, but not much hope of it breaking before the evening, I’d say.’

‘It’s bad luck for the Mark’s last day on dawn and evening,’ replied Bigwig. ‘Go and wake Captain Chervil. I’ll take your place here until the Mark come up.’

When Moneywort had gone, Bigwig sat in the mouth of the hole and sniffed the heavy air. The sky seemed as close as the tops of the trees, covered with still cloud and flushed on the morning side with a lurid, foxy glow. Not a lark was up, not a thrush singing. The field before him was empty and motionless. The longing to run came over him. In less than no time he could be down to the arch. It was a safe bet that Campion and his patrol would not be out in weather like this. Every living creature up and down the fields and copses must be muted, pressed down as though under a great, soft paw. Nothing would be moving, for the day was unpropitious and instincts were blurred and not to be trusted. It was a time to crouch and be silent. But a fugitive would be safe. Indeed, he could not hope for a better chance.

‘O Lord with the starlight ears, send me a sign!’ said Bigwig.

He heard movement in the run behind him. It was the Owslafa bringing up the prisoner. In the thundery twilight, Blackavar looked more sick and dejected than ever. His nose was dry and the whites of his eyes showed. Bigwig went out into the field, pulled a mouthful of clover and brought it back.

‘Cheer up,’ he said to Blackavar, ‘Have some clover.’

‘That’s not allowed, sir,’ said one of the escort.

‘Oh, let him have it, Bartsia,’ said the other. ‘There’s no one to see. It’s hard enough for everyone on a day like this, let alone the prisoner.’

Blackavar ate the clover and Bigwig took up his usual place as Chervil arrived to watch the Mark go out.

The rabbits were slow and hesitant and Chervil himself seemed unable to rise to his usual brisk manner. He had little to say as they passed him. He let both Thethuthinnang and Hyzenthlay go by in silence. Nelthilta, however, stopped of her own accord and stared impudently at him.

‘Under the weather, Captain?’ she said. ‘Brace up, now. You may have a surprise soon, who knows?’

‘What do you mean?’ answered Chervil sharply.

‘Does might grow wings and fly,’ said Nelthilta, ‘and before very much longer, too. Secrets go faster than moles underground.’

She followed the other does into the field. For a moment Chervil looked as though he were going to call her back.

‘I wonder whether you could have a look at my off hind foot?’ said Bigwig. ‘I think I’ve got a thorn in it.’

‘Come on, then,’ said Chervil, ‘outside: not that we’ll be able to see much better there.’

But whether because he was still thinking about what Nelthilta had said, or for some other reason, he did not make a particularly thorough search for the thorn: which was perhaps as well, for there was no thorn there.

‘Oh, confound it!’ he said, looking up, ‘There’s that dratted white bird again. What’s it keep coming here for?’

‘Why does it worry you?’ asked Bigwig. ‘It’s not doing any harm – only looking for snails.’

‘Anything out of the ordinary is a possible source of danger,’ replied Chervil, quoting Woundwort. ‘And you keep away from it today, Thlayli, d’you see? That’s an order.’

‘Oh, very well,’ said Bigwig. ‘But surely you know how to get rid of them? I thought all rabbits knew that.’

‘Don’t be ridiculous. You’re not suggesting attacking a bird that size, with a beak as thick as my front paw?’

‘No, no – it’s a sort of charm-thing that my mother taught me. You know, like “Ladybird, ladybird, fly away home.” That works and so does this: or it always used to with my mother.’

‘The ladybird thing only works because all ladybirds crawl to the top of the stem and then fly.’

‘Well, all right,’ said Bigwig, ‘have it your own way. But you don’t like the bird and I’ve offered to get rid of it for you. We had a lot of these charms and sayings in my old warren. I only wish we’d had one to get rid of men.’

‘Well, what is the charm?’ said Chervil.

‘You say,

O fly away, great bird so white,
And don’t come back until tonight.

‘Of course, you have to use hedgerow talk. No use expecting them to understand Lapine. Let’s have a go, anyway. If it doesn’t work, we’re none the worse and if it does, the Mark will think it was you who drove the bird away. Where’s it got to? I can hardly see anything in this light. Oh, there it is, look, behind those thistles. Well, you run like this. Now you have to hop to this side, then to the other side, scratch with your legs – that’s right, splendid – cock your ears and then go straight on until – ah! Here we are; now then:

O fly away, great bird so white,
And don’t come back until tonight

‘There you are, you see. It did work. I think there’s more than we know to some of these old rhymes and spells. Of course, it might have been just going to fly away anyway. But you must admit it’s gone.’

‘Probably all that prancing about as we came up to it,’ said Chervil sourly. ‘We must have looked completely mad. What on earth will the Mark think? Anyway, now we’re out here, we may as well go round the sentries.’

‘I’ll stop and feed, if you don’t mind,’ said Bigwig. ‘I didn’t get much last night, you know.’

Bigwig’s luck was not altogether out. Later that morning, quite unexpectedly, he came upon a chance to talk to Blackavar alone. He had been through the sweltering burrows, finding everywhere quick breathing and feverish pukes: and he was just wondering whether he could not plausibly go and press Chervil to ask the Council’s permission for the Mark to spend part of the day in the bushes above ground – for that might very well bring some sort of opportunity with it – when he began to feel the need to pass hraka. No rabbit passes hraka underground: and like schoolchildren, who know that they cannot very well be refused a request to go to the lavatory – as long as it is not too soon after the last time – the Efrafan rabbits used to slip into the ditch for a breath of air and a change of scene. Although they were not supposed to be allowed to go more often than was necessary, some of the Owsla were easier than others. As Bigwig approached the hole that led into the ditch, he found two or three young bucks loitering in the run and as usual, set himself to act his part as convincingly as he could.

‘Why are you hanging about here?’ he asked.

‘The prisoner’s escort are up at the hole and they turned us back sir,’ answered one. ‘They’re not letting anyone out for the moment.’

‘Not to pass hraka?’ said Bigwig.

‘No, sir.’

Indignant, Bigwig made his way to the mouth of the hole. Here he found Blackavar’s escort talking to the sentry on duty.

‘I’m afraid you can’t go out for the moment, sir,’ said Bartsia. ‘The prisoner’s in the ditch, but he won’t be long.’

‘Neither shall I,’ said Bigwig. ‘Just get out of the way, will you?’ He pushed Bartsia to one side and hopped into the ditch.

The day had become even more lowering and overcast. Blackavar was squatting a little way off, under an overhanging plume of cow-parsley. The flies were walking on his shreds of ears, but he seemed not to notice them. Bigwig went along the ditch and squatted beside him.

‘Blackavar, listen,’ he said quickly. ‘This is the truth, by Frith and the Black Rabbit. I am a secret enemy of Efrafa. No one knows this but you and a few of the Mark does. I’m going to escape with them tonight and I’m going to take you as well. Don’t do anything yet. When the time comes I’ll be there to tell you. Just brace up and get yourself ready.’

Without waiting for an answer, he moved away as though to find a better spot. Even so, he was back at the hole before Blackavar, who evidently meant to stay outside for as long as the escort – clearly in no hurry themselves – would allow.

‘Sir,’ said Bartsia, as Bigwig came in, ‘that’s the third time, sir, that you’ve disregarded my authority. Council police can’t be treated in this way. I’m afraid I shall have to report it, sir.’

Bigwig made no reply and returned up the run.

‘Wait a bit longer if you can,’ he said as he passed the bucks. ‘I don’t suppose that poor fellow will get out again today.’

He wondered whether to go and look for Hyzenthlay, but decided that it would be prudent to keep away from her. She knew what to do, and the less they were seen together the better. His head ached in the heat and he wanted only to be alone and quiet. He went back to his burrow and slept.