"Winter comes with snow and sleet,
Winter freezes to his seat.
Now, before the first frost's here,
El-ahrairah must persevere."
So El-ahrairah went sadly to his friends and told them that the time had come for him to set out once more, to search for the Third Cow.
"Have a care, El-ahrairah," said the white bull. "Take great care: for by all I ever heard, the Third Cow is like no other. The Third Cow lives at the end of the world and is able to swallow up the world and all that is in it. Why face such frightful danger? Stay here with us and be happy."
El-ahrairah was sorely tempted, but although he thought for a long time, he could only conclude that the yellowhammer had told the truth and the time had indeed come for him to set out to find the Third Cow.
"Then take Whitethorn with you," said the Second Cow. "She will be your comrade and your guardian and keep you company. Only, I beg you, look after her well. She is very dear to us, but there is nothing I would not do for you, my dear rabbit friend."
So the two set out together; and as I was always told, this was the hardest part of al El-ahrairah's wanderings, for the way lay over great mountains and through thrilling regions of thick-ribbed ice. Winter came on, and often they were starved with hunger and cold. If he could not have pressed up against Whitethorn, El-ahrairah would have frozen to death. Even the little bird was forced to leave them, for the bitter nights were more than he could endure.
It was many months before the end of that winter, but at last Whitethorn and El-ahrairah, thin as weasels, came slowly down out of the lower hills and found themselves in the land of the Third Cow.
Now, the Third Cow is herself the end of the world. In that land there is nothing that is not the Third Cow--horns and hooves and tail and ears. They could have traveled on and on and still have found themselves nowhere but upon the body of the Third Cow, for it fills the world and is the world. For many days they sought the Cow's head, and at last they found it--a great, staring form of eyes and nostrils and a huge mouth that gaped like a cave. And the Cow spoke to them with the voice of a cave.
"What do you want, El-ahrairah? What are you seeking?"
"I am seeking for my youth," answered El-ahrairah.
"I have swallowed it up," replied the Third Cow. "I have swallowed it as I swallow all that is in the world. My name is Time, and no creature escapes me." And with this she yawned and swallowed half the day.
In the silence El-ahrairah turned to Whitethorn, who stood shivering beside him.
"I am going to find my youth."
"Don't go, El-ahrairah," Pleaded Whitethorn. "You will be lost: I know it! Stay with me. Let us go back to my kind father and mother and live in the green meadow."
El-ahrairah said no more. As the Third Cow's mouth opened in a vast snore, he plunged forward and disappeard into the red cavern.
No one knows all that befell El-ahrairah in the heart and stomach of the Third Cow, for it has never been told and never will be. There are no words in which to speak of the dark adventures, formless as dreams, which fell upon him, for he was among everything past: all that the Third Cow had ever swallowed over the long years. What dangers did he overcome? What dreadful creatures did he meet and delude? What did he find to eat? We shall never know. He himself became a dream, a wandering fragment of the past. And whether he could even remember who he had once been the story never tells. The Third Cow is beyond and beyond the reach of any rabbit's understanding.
At last, when he was worn out and exhausted with long stumbling in the entrails of the Cow, he came to a slope that led downward into a faint, dim light. And here lay a lake--a lucent lake of golden milk. This place was nothing less than the udder of the Third Cow, whose milk contains all the blessings of the years and the warmth of all the suns that have ever shone. It is the lake of youth.
El-ahrairah stood gazing at that wonderful lake, and as he gazed he grew faint with wonder. His paws slipped, and all of a sudden he fell head over ears into the golden milk.
He struggled and paddled helplessly, for he could not find a way out. Little by little he felt his strength going from him. He was sinking; he was drowning. He gave himself up for lost.
At the very last, he felt himself drawn downward into a smooth tube and thence into a warm, wet mouth. The next moment he lay spluttering and choking in the open air, on patch of warm grass, and Whitethorn was bending over him. Near them rose the curve of the Cow's udder. Whitethorn had suckled him out by one of the Cow's teats.
A glow of youth and strength filled El-ahrairah. He danced on the grass. He capered on the stones. He sang to Whitethorn without knowing what he was singing. Whitethron sang with him, and together, still singing, they turned for home.
The way back was short, for now it was summer and they could travel three times as fast, knowing that all the adventure was blessedly over. All I know of El-ahrairah's return is one strange thing. When he came to the place where the First Cow's enchanted wood had stood, it was no longer there. It had vanished from under the Down as mysteriously as it had appeared, and no one has seen it again, from that day to this. All that was to be seen was the yellowhammer on the thorn, who sang:
"El-ahrairah has found in truth
His secret of eternal youth."
*
"Well," said Bigwig, "those were certainly no ordinary cows. It was stupid of me to think they might have been, considering they were an adventure of El-ahrairah. What about Whitethorn? Does she stay the same age too?"
"The stories don't tell any more about her," said Dandelion, "but I'm sure El-ahrairah would never forget a friend who'd meant so much to him."