'Meester Pigvig, you find Meester 'Azel?'
'Yes,' said Bigwig, 'he's in the ditch here.'
' 'E not dead?'
'No, but he's wounded and very weak. The farm men shot him with a gun, you know.'
'You get black stones out?'
'How do you mean?'
'Alvays vid gun ees coming liddle black stones. You never see?'
'No, I don't know about guns.'
'Take out black stones, 'e get better. 'E come now, ya?'
'I'll see,' said Bigwig. He went down to Hazel and found him awake and talking to Fiver. When Bigwig told him that Kehaar was outside he dragged himself up the short run and into the grass.
'Dis dam' gun,' said Kehaar. ' 'E put liddle stones for 'urt you. I look, ya?'
'I suppose you'd better,' said Hazel. 'My leg's still very bad, I'm afraid.'
He lay down and Kehaar's head flicked from side to side as though he were looking for snails in Hazel's brown fur. He peered closely up the length of the torn flank.
'Ees not stones 'ere,' he said. 'Go in, go out - no stop. Now I see you leg. Maybe 'urt you, not long.'
Two shot-gun pellets were buried in the muscle of the haunch. Kehaar detected them by smell and removed them exactly as he might have picked spiders out of a crack. Hazel had barely time to flinch before Bigwig was sniffing at the pellets in the grass.
'Now ees more bleed,' said Kehaar. 'You stay, vait maybe vun, two day. Den goot like before. Dose rabbits up dere, all vait, vait for Meester 'Azel. I tell dem 'e come.' He flew off before they could reply.
As things turned out, Hazel stayed three days at the foot of the hill. The hot weather continued and for much of the time he sat under the elder branches, dozing above ground like some solitary hlessi and feeling his strength returning. Fiver stayed with him, keeping the wounds clean and watching his reco
very. Often, they would say nothing for hours together, lying in the rough, warm grass while the shadows moved to evening, until at last the local blackbird cocked its tail and tuck-tucked away to roost. Neither spoke of Nuthanger Farm, but Hazel showed plainly enough that for the future Fiver, when he gave advice, would have no hard task to get him to accept it.
'Hrair-roo,' said Hazel one evening, 'what would we have done without you? We'd none of us be here, would we?'
'You're sure we are here, then?' asked Fiver.
'That's too mysterious for me,' replied Hazel. 'What do you mean?'
'Well, there's another place - another country - isn't there? We go there when we sleep: at other times too; and when we die. El-ahrairah comes and goes between the two as he wants, I suppose, but I never could quite make that out, from the tales. Some rabbits will tell you it's all easy there, compared with the waking dangers that they understand. But I think that only shows they don't know much about it. It's a wild place, and very unsafe. And where are we really - there or here?'
'Our bodies stay here - that's good enough for me. You'd better go and talk to that Silverweed fellow - he might know more.'
'Oh, you remember him? I felt that when we were listening to him, you know. He terrified me and yet I knew that I understood him better than anyone else in that place. He knew where he belonged, and it wasn't here. Poor fellow, I'm sure he's dead. They'd got him all right - the ones in that country. They don't give their secrets away for nothing, you know. But look! Here come Holly and Blackberry, so we'd better feel sure we're here just for the moment anyway.'
Holly had already come down the hill on the previous day to see Hazel and tell again the story of his escape from Efrafa. When he had spoken of his deliverance by the great apparition in the night, Fiver had listened attentively and asked one question,' Did it make a noise?' Later, when Holly had gone back, he told Hazel that he felt sure there was some natural explanation, though he had no idea what it could be. Hazel, however, had not been greatly interested. For him, the important thing was their disappointment and the reason for it. Holly had achieved nothing and this was entirely due to the unexpected unfriendliness of the Efrafan rabbits. This evening, as soon as they had begun to feed, Hazel returned to the matter.
'Holly,' he said, 'we're hardly any nearer to solving our problem, are we? You've done wonders and got nothing to show for it, and the farm raid was only a silly lark, I'm afraid - and an expensive one for me, at that. The real hole has still got to be dug.'
'Well,' said Holly, 'you say it was only a lark, Hazel, but at least it gave us two does: and they're the only two we've got.'
'Are they any good?'
The kind of ideas that have become natural to many male human beings in thinking of females - ideas of protection, fidelity, romantic love and so on - are, of course, unknown to rabbits, although rabbits certainly do form exclusive attachments much more frequently than most people realize. However, they are not romantic and it came naturally to Hazel and Holly to consider the two Nuthanger does simply as breeding stock for the warren. This was what they had risked their lives for.
'Well, it's hard to say, yet,' replied Holly. 'They're doing their best to settle down with us - Clover particularly. She seems very sensible. But they're extraordinarily helpless, you know - I've never seen anything like it - and I'm afraid they may turn out to be delicate in bad weather. They might survive next winter and then again they might not. But you weren't to know that, when you got them out of the farm.'