" 'Tis."
" 'Tisn't. All right, I'll show you."
The second put a hand on either side and lowered himself to the bottom. Stooping, he picked up the rabbit, which remained inert, laid it on the concrete verge and pulled himself up and out.
"I told you it was dead," said the first boy.
"I still don't believe it is. Wait, I'll get a blade of grass."
"Oh, leave it alone, both of you," cried an older girl, from beside the azaleas, "getting that nasty mess all over your hands! Leave it alone, Philip. Leave it where it is and Hemmings'll take it away if you tell him. Coo-ee!" she called in a high-pitched voice. "We're com-ing!"
The boys, leaving the body of the rabbit on the concrete, followed her round a laurustinus, over some box bushes and out of sight. Two or three minutes later, Tindra and Nyreem came cautiously out from under the laurels and approached the edge of the pit.
"Sandwort!" said Tindra, sniffing at the body. "Sandwort! He isn't dead," she added to Nyreem. "He's breathing and his blood's moving. Lick his nostrils; lick his eyelids. That's right."
The two does persevered for several minutes. At length Sandwort's head moved slightly and his eyes opened. He tried to get on his feet but for some time could not do so.
"What happened? Where's the dog? Where's Foxglove?"
"Come back under the bushes, if you can," said Tindra. "The dog's gone, but you need to rest."
It was late in the evening when the two does at last reached the ridge of the Down, with Sandwort limping and stumbling beside them. The first rabbit they met was Fiver, who sniffed Sandwort over where he lay and went to tell Hazel.
"He'd better get some sleep," said Hazel grimly. "Take him to the nearest burrow," he added to Nyreem. "As for you," he went on, turning to Tindra, "You'd better stay with me and explain yourself. What were the two of you doing down there after I'd said no one was to go?"
Poor Tindra was so much overcome by the severity of the Chief Rabbit that she was able to come out with only an incoherent stammering of mixed-up excuses that amounted to no excuse at all. Hazel gave her a sound scolding, but this was modified by the indisputable fact (which she was too demoralized to put forward for herself) that if she and Nyreem had not done what they did, Sandwort would now be dead. It was left to Hazel finally to give her credit for that.
As for Sandwort, he was a changed rabbit. He never spoke of what he had undergone and became almost excessively respectful to his seniors. One evening, several weeks after the affair of the pit, Dandelion was acting as host to a hlessi who was staying a few days in the warren. At evening silflay he was pointing out one or two personalities, when the hlessi asked, "And who's that poor afflicted rabbit who sticks so close to his doe?"
"Where?" replied Dandelion, looking about them. "Oh, that's a rabbit called Sandwort, who's had and extraordinarily lucky escape. It happened like this ..."
18
Stonecrop
Those stinks which the nostrils straight abhor are
not most pernicious, but such airs as have some similitude
with man's body, and so betray the spirits.
FRANCIS BACON, Natural History
Soon after sunrise on a perfect summer morning, Hazel came out of his burrow, through the Honeycomb and into the fresh air of the Down. Dusk and dawn are the activity times for rabbits, and already a number were grazing in twos and threes on the slope and out along the crest, paying almost no attention even to one another as they foraged through the short grass. It was a peaceful scene, and the rabbits, knowing that they had no danger to fear, were absorbed in the enjoyment of feeding in the early sunshine.
Hazel watched them with satisfaction. Again and again, since the previous spring, when Fiver's vision had brought them up the steep hill to this high ground, he had acknowledged the wisdom of choosing for a warren this lonely place where rabbits could see all about them and consequently had little to fear from their natural enemies. Scents, whether the reassuringly accustomed or the disturbingly unusual, came to them on the prevailing west wind, while their great ears could readily detect the sounds made by an intruder, man or beast, who might approach over the chalk. It was a long time now, thought Hazel contentedly, since even one rabbit of his warren had fallen prey to an enemy. This was no easy hunting ground for the Thousand--fox, stoat, dog, marauding cat or any other enemy--while above all his rabbits were not persecuted by Man. Men, though their approach was the easiest to detect of all the elil, remained the most dreaded enemy, able with guns to kill from a distance and when on these hills almost as sharp-eyed as rabbits themselves. Frith be praised, thought Hazel, basking happily in the sun, we don't have to fear men in our daily lives; those sleek youngsters over there hardly know what a man is.
Suddenly, with a shock of surprise, he cast aside his tranquillity and became fully alert. From a short distance away, on the other side of the nearby trees, came the ugly sounds of rabbits fighting--yes, fighting among themselves, for among the high-pitched snarling and angry screeches he could hear nothing of any other animal. Nor could this be mating bucks fighting over a doe, for he could hear not two but three or four rabbits together.
In the normal way and apart from mating tussles, there was almost no fighting among the Watership Down rabbits. Since there were plenty of holes and plenty of grass, there was no occasion for it. Yet, as Hazel could now distinctly hear, this was a savage, bitter encounter, full of hatred and of desperation too. He turned and ran in the direction of the noise.
Coming out from among the trees, he saw at once what was going on. Three or four of his own rabbits, whom he recognized, were together setting upon a stranger. The stranger, not unnaturally, was getting the worst of it and was pinned to the ground. But insofar as Hazel could see, he was to all appearances a hulking great rabbit and had a good deal of fight left in him.
Hazel ran up to them and pulled two of the rabbits out of the scrimmage. The remaining two sat back on their haunches and looked at him.
"What's going on?" asked Hazel. "You, Peerton, and you, Woodruff--what are you trying to do?"
"We're going to kill him, Hazelrah," panted the rabbit called Peerton, one of whose front paws looked badly bitten. "Let us alone. It won't take long."