Buck rabbits on their own seldom or never go in for serious digging. This is the natural job of a doe making a home for her litter before they are born, and then her buck helps her. All the same, solitary bucks - if they can find no existing holes to make use of - will sometimes scratch out short tunnels for shelter, although it is not work that they tackle at all seriously. During the morning the digging proceeded in a light-hearted and intermittent way. The bank on each side of the oak tree was bare and consisted of a light, gravelly soil. There were several false starts and fresh choices, but by ni-Frith they had three scrapes of a sort. Hazel, watching, lent help here and there and encouraged the others. Every so often he slipped back to look out over the field and make sure that all was safe. Only Fiver remained solitary. He took no part in the digging but squatted on the edge of the ditch, fidgeting backwards and forwards, sometimes nibbling and then starting up suddenly as though he could hear some sound in the wood. After speaking to him once or twice and receiving no reply, Hazel thought it best to let him alone. The next time he left the digging he kept away from Fiver and sat looking at the bank, as though entirely concerned with the work.
A little while after ni-Frith the sky clouded over thickly. The light grew dull and they could smell rain approaching from the west. The blue-tit that had been swinging on a bramble, singing 'Heigh, ho, go-and-get-another-bit-of-moss,' stopped his acrobatics and flew into the wood. Hazel was just wondering whether it would be worth while starting a side-passage to link Bigwig's hole to Dandelion's, when he felt a stamp of warning from somewhere close by. He turned quickly. It was Fiver who had stamped and he was now staring intently across the field.
Beside a tussock of grass a little way outside the opposite copse, a rabbit was sitting and gazing at them. Its ears were erect and it was evidently giving them the full attention of sight, smell and hearing. Hazel rose on his hind legs, paused, and then sat back on his haunches, in full view. The other rabbit remained motionless. Hazel, never taking his eyes off it, heard three or four of the others coming up behind him. After a moment he said,
'Blackberry?'
'He's down the hole,' replied Pipkin.
'Go and get him.'
Still the strange rabbit made no move. The wind rose and the long grass began to flutter and ripple in the dip between them. From behind, Blackberry said,
'You wanted me, Hazel?'
'I'm going over to speak to that rabbit,' said Hazel. 'I want you to come with me.'
'Can I come?' asked Pipkin.
'No, Hlao-roo. We don't want to frighten him. Three's too many.'
'Be careful,' said Buckthorn, as Hazel and Blackberry set off down the slope. 'He may not be the only one.'
At several points the brook was narrow - not much wider than a rabbit-run. They jumped it and went up the opposite slope.
'Just behave as if we were back at home,' said Hazel. 'I don't see how it can be a trap and anyway we can always run.'
As they approached, the other rabbit kept still and watched them intently. They could see now that he was a big fellow, sleek and handsome. His fur shone and his claws and teeth were in perfect condition. Nevertheless, he did not seem aggressive. On the contrary, there was a curious, rather unnatural gentleness about the way in which he waited for them to come nearer. They stopped and looked at him from a little distance.
'I don't think he's dangerous,' whispered Blackberry.' I'll go up to him first if you like.'
'We'll both go,' replied Hazel. But at this moment the other rabbit came towards them of his own accord. He and Hazel touched their noses together, sniffing and questioning silently. The stranger had an unusual smell, but it was certainly not unpleasant. It gave Hazel an impression of good feeding, of health and of a certain indolence, as though the other came from some rich, prosperous country where he himself had never been. He had the air of an aristocrat and as he turned to gaze at Blackberry from his great, brown eyes, Hazel began to see himself as a ragged wanderer, leader of a gang of vagabonds. He had not meant to be the first to speak, but something in the other's silence compelled him.
'We've come over the heather,' he said.
The other rabbit made no reply, but his look was not that of an enemy. His demeanour had a kind of melancholy which was perplexing.
'Do you live here?' asked Hazel, after a pause.
'Yes,' replied the other rabbit; and then added, 'We saw you come.'
'We mean to live here too,' said Hazel firmly.
The other rabbit showed no concern. He paused and then answered, 'Why not? We supposed you would. But I don't think there are enough of you, are there, to live very comfortably on your own?'
Hazel felt puzzled. Apparently the stranger was not worried by the news that they meant to stay. How big was his warren? Where was it? How many rabbits were concealed in the copse and watching them now? Were they likely to be attacked? The stranger's manner told nothing. He seemed detached, almost bored, but perfectly friendly. His lassitude, his great size and beautiful, well-groomed appearance, his unhurried air of h
aving all he wanted and of being unaffected by the newcomers one way or the other - all these presented Hazel with a problem unlike anything he had had to deal with before. If there was some kind of trick, he had no idea what it might be. He decided that he himself, at any rate, would be perfectly candid and plain.
'There are enough of us to protect ourselves,' he said. 'We don't want to make enemies, but if we meet with any kind of interference -'
The other interrupted smoothly.' Don't get upset - you're all very welcome. If you're going back now, I'll come over with you: that is, unless you have any objection.'
He set off down the slope. Hazel and Blackberry, after looking at each other for a moment, caught him up and went beside him. He moved easily, without haste and showed less caution than they in crossing the field. Hazel felt more mystified than ever. The other rabbit evidently had no fear that they might set upon him, hrair to one, and kill him. He was ready to go alone among a crowd of suspicious strangers, but what he stood to gain from this risk it was impossible to guess. Perhaps, thought Hazel wryly, teeth and claws would make no impression on that great, firm body and shining pelt.
When they reached the ditch, all the other rabbits were squatting together, watching their approach. Hazel stopped in front of them but did not know what to say. If the stranger had not been there, he would have given them an account of what had happened. If Blackberry and he had driven the stranger across the field by force, he could have handed him over for safe-keeping to Bigwig or Silver. But to have him sitting beside him, looking his followers over in silence and courteously waiting for someone else to speak first - this was a situation beyond Hazel's experience. It was Bigwig, straightforward and blunt as always, who broke the tension.
'Who is this, Hazel?' he said. 'Why has he come back with you?'