more shivering on the banks of streams for you, old chap!'
'He won't know how to shiver in a week or two,' said Hawkbit, with his mouth full. 'I feel so much better for this! I'd follow you anywhere, Hazel. I wasn't myself in the heather that night. It's bad when you know you can't get underground. I hope you understand.'
'It's all forgotten,' answered Hazel. 'I'd better ask Cowslip what we're supposed to do about taking some of this stuff back to the warren.'
He found Cowslip near the spring. He had evidently finished feeding and was washing his face with his front paws.
'Are there roots here every day?' asked Hazel. «Where-» He checked himself just in time. 'I'm learning,' he thought.
'Not always roots,' replied Cowslip. 'These are last year's, as you'll have noticed. I suppose the remains are being cleared out. It may be anything-roots, greenstuff, old apples: it all depends. Sometimes there's nothing at all, especially in good summer weather. But in hard weather, in winter, there's nearly always something. Big roots, usually, or kale, or sometimes corn. We eat that too, you know.'
'Food's no problem, then. The whole place ought to be full of rabbits. I suppose-'
'If you really have finished,' interrupted Cowslip, '-and there's no hurry; do take your time-you could try carrying. It's easy with these roots-easier than anything except lettuce. You simply bite onto one, take it back to the warren and put it in the great burrow. I generally take two at a time, but then I've had a lot of practice. Rabbits don't usually carry food, I know, but you'll learn. It's useful to have a store. The does need some for their young when they're getting bigger; and it's particularly convenient for all of us in bad weather. Come back with me and I'll help if you find the carrying difficult at first.'
It took Hazel some trouble to leam to grip half a carrot in his mouth and carry it, like a dog, across the field and back to the warren. He had to put it down several times. But Cowslip was encouraging and he was determined to keep up his position as the resourceful leader of the newcomers. At his suggestion they both waited at the mouth of one of the larger holes to see how his companions were shaping. They all seemed to be making an effort and doing their best, although the smaller rabbits-especially Pipkin-clearly found the task an awkward one.
'Cheer up, Pipkin,' said Hazel. 'Think how much you'll enjoy eating it tonight. Anyway, I'm sure Fiver must find it as hard as you: he's just as small.'
'I don't know where he is,' said Pipkin. 'Have you seen him?'
Now that Hazel thought about it, he had not. He became a little anxious and, as he returned across the field with Cowslip, did his best to explain something of Fiver's peculiar temperament. 'I do hope he's all right,' he said. 'I think perhaps I'll go and look for him when we've carried this next lot. Have you any idea where he might be?'
He waited for Cowslip to reply, but he was disappointed. After a few moments Cowslip said, 'Look, do you see those jackdaws hanging round the carrots? They've been a nuisance for several days now. I must get someone to try to keep them off until we've finished carrying. But they're really too big for a rabbit to tackle. Now, sparrows-'
'What's that got to do with Fiver?' asked Hazel sharply.
'In fact,' said Cowslip, breaking into a run, 'I'll go myself.'
But he did not engage the jackdaws and Hazel saw him pick up another carrot and start back with it. Annoyed, he joined Buckthorn and Dandelion and the three of them returned together. As they came up to the warren bank he suddenly caught sight of Fiver. He was sitting half concealed under the low spread of a yew tree on the edge of the copse, some way from the holes of the warren. Putting down his carrot, Hazel ran across, scrambled up the bank and joined him on the bare ground under the low, close boughs. Fiver said nothing and continued to stare over the field.
'Aren't you coming to learn to carry, Fiver?' asked Hazel at length. 'It's not too difficult once you get the hang of it.'
'I'll have nothing to do with it,' answered Fiver in a low voice. 'Dogs-you're like dogs carrying sticks.'
'Fiver! Are you trying to make me angry? I'm not going to get angry because you call me stupid names. But you're letting the others do all the work.'
'I'm the one who ought to get angry,' said Fiver. 'But I'm no good at it, that's the trouble. Why should they listen to me? Half of them think I'm mad. You're to blame, Hazel, because you know I'm not and still you won't listen.'
'So you don't like this warren any better even now? Well, I think you're wrong. Everyone makes mistakes sometimes. Why shouldn't you make a mistake, like everybody else? Hawkbit was wrong in the heather and you're wrong now.'
'Those are rabbits down there, trotting along like a lot of squirrels with nuts. How can that be right?'
'Well, I'd say they've copied a good idea from the squirrels and that makes them better rabbits.'
'Do you suppose the man, whoever he is, puts the roots out there because he has a kind heart? What's he up to?'
'He's just throwing away rubbish. How many rabbits have had a good meal off men's rubbish heaps? Shot lettuces, old turnips? You know we all do, when we can. It's not poisoned, Fiver, I can tell you that. And if he wanted to shoot rabbits he's had plenty of chances this morning. But he hasn't done it.'
Fiver seemed to grow even smaller as he flattened himself on the hard earth. 'I'm a fool to try to argue,' he said miserably. 'Hazel-dear old Hazel-it's simply that I
'Fiver, why not do as I say? Have a meal on those roots and then go underground and sleep. You'll feel all the better for it.'
'I tell you I'll have nothing to do with the place,' said Fiver. 'As for going underground, I'd rather go back over the heather. The roof of that hall is made of bones.'
'No, no-tree roots. But, after all, you were underground all night.'
'I wasn't,' said Fiver.
'What? Where were you, then?'
'Here.'
'All night?'
'Yes. A yew tree gives good shelter, you know.'
Hazel was now seriously worried. If Fiver's horrors had kept him above ground all night in the rain, oblivious of cold and prowling elil, then clearly it was not going to be easy to talk him out of them. He was silent for some time. At last he said, 'What a shame! I still think you'd do better to come and join us. But I'll let you alone now and come and see how you're feeling later. Don't go eating the yew tree, either.'
Fiver made no reply and Hazel went back to the field.
The day was certainly not one to encourage foreboding. By ni-Frith it was so hot that the lower part of the field was humid. The air was heavy with thick, herbal smells, as though it were already late June; the water mint and marjoram, not yet flowering, gave off scent from their leaves and here and there an early meadowsweet stood in bloom. The chiffchaff was busy all morning, high in a silver birch near the abandoned holes across the dip; and from deep in the copse, somewhere by the disused well, came the beautiful song of the blackcap. By early afternoon there was a stillness of heat, and a herd of cows from the higher fields slowly grazed their way down into the shade. Only a few of the rabbits remained above ground. Almost all were asleep in the burrows. But still Fiver sat alone under the yew tree.
In the early evening Hazel sought out Bigwig and together they ventured into the copse behind the warren. At first they moved cautiously, but before long they grew confident at finding no trace of any creature larger than a mouse.
'There's nothing to smell,' said Bigwig, 'and no tracks. I think Cowslip's told us no more than the truth. There really aren't any elil here. Different from that wood where we crossed the river. I don't mind telling you, Hazel, I was scared stiff that night, but I wasn't going to show it.'
'So was I,' answered Hazel. 'But I agree with you about this place. It seems completely clear. If we-'
