Richard Adams - Watership Down

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A novel by

Richard Adams

AVON

PUBLISHERS OF BARD, CAMaOT, DISCUS, EQUINOX AND FLARE BOOKS

To Juliet'and Rosamond,

remembering the road to Stratjord-on-Avon

Note

Nuthanger Farm is a real place, like all the other places in the book. But Mr,

and Mrs. Cane, their little girl Lucy and their farmhands are fictitious and

bear no intentional resemblance to any persons known to me, living or dead.

Acknowledgments

I acknowledge with gratitude the help I have received not only from my family

but also from my friends Reg Sones and Hal Summers, who read the book before

publication and made valuable suggestions.

I also wish to thank warmly Mrs. Margaret Apps and Miss Miriam Hobbs, who took

pains with the typing and helped me very much.

I am indebted, for a knowledge of rabbits and their ways, to Mr. R. M.

Lockley's remarkable book, The Private Life of the Rabbit. Anyone who wishes

to know more about the migrations of yearlings, about pressing chin glands,

chewing pellets, the effects of over-crowding in warrens, the phenomenon of

re-absorption of fertilized embryos, the capacity of buck rabbits to fight

stoats, or any other features of Lapine life, should refer to that definitive

work.

AVON BOOKS

A division of

The Hearst Corporation

959 Eighth Avenue

New York, New York 10019

Published by arrangement with Macmillan Publishing

Company, Inc.

Library of Congress Catalog Card Number: 73-6044.

ISBN: 0-380-00293-0

portions thereof in any form whatsoever. For information address Macmillan

Publishing Company, Inc., 866 Third Avenue, New York, New York 10017.

First Avon Printing, April, 1975.

AVON TRADEMARK REG. U.S. PAT. OFF. AND FOREIGN COUNTRIES, REGISTERED

TRADEMARK— MAKCA REOISTRADA, HECHO EN CHICAGO, U.S.*.

Printed in the U.S.A.

Contents

MAP

PART I • THE JOURNEY

1 The Notice Board

2 The Chief Rabbit

3 Hazel's Decision

4 The Departure

5 In the Woods

6 The Story of the Blessing of El-ahrairah

7 The Lendri and the River

8 The Crossing

9 The Crow and the Beanfield

10 The Road and the Common

11 Hard Going

12 The Stranger in the Field

13 Hospitality

14 "Like Trees in November"

15 The Story of the King's Lettuce

16 Silverweed

17 The Shining Wire

VU1-1X

17 22 25 30 34 38 41 47 53 61 65 IS 86 100 107 113

PART II • ON WATERSHIP DOWN

18 Watership Down

19 Fear in the Dark

20 A Honeycomb and a Mouse

21 "For El-ahrairah to Cry"

22 The Story of the Trial of El-ahrairah

23 Kehaar

127

135

145

156

167

184

Contents continued on page x

irWateraWp Down1 J*jl t •(•Haatfi m f I Honeycomb ,-- farm

MtLtS 1

UOBfD

Main mad m, Minor road. Footpath..... Bridle Hack, RaJrMdlH

MAP REFERENCES

PARTI

The iloiy opara A1 The Enfiomn crossing Bl ! Hia Heather

BQUAJK C 9 ' Cowilip's Warren C4

PART It

The N.6. center

orths Beech Hangar

on WitersMp Down D •

NuBianoer Fmn P7

PART 01

Tfw combe where Blgvrig mat th« fox Pit

Where Way crosted the railway Una OII

The upper bridge on the Teal D19

Whera Uie punt was lyinfl 018

Efrata. The Crixa O IS

The roadless railway atch D15

PART IV

Tha lower brfdpfl and Hie weed pool D IT

Th» cop» whara ttw toe Mnidc C1»

Contents

24 Nuthanger Farm

25 The Raid

26 Fiver Beyond

27 "You Can't Imagine It Unless You've Been There"

28 At the Foot of the Hill

29 Return and Departure

202

211

230

235

248

257

PART I

PART III • EFRAFA

30 A New Journey

31 The Story of El-ahrairah and the Black Rabbit of Inle

32 Across the Iron Road

33 The Great River

34 General Woundwort

35 Groping

36 Approaching Thunder

37 The Thunder Builds Up

38 The Thunder Breaks

PART IV • HAZEL-RAH

39 The Bridges

40 Tfte Way Back

41 TV Story o/ Rowsby Woof and the Fairy Wogdog

42 News at Sunset

43 The Great Patrol

44 A Message from El-ahrairah

45 Nuthanger Farm Again

46 Bigwig Stands His Ground

47 T/ie Sky Suspended

48 Z>ea e* Machina

49 tfaze/ Comes Home

Epilogue Lapine Glossary

265

272

286

294

307

316

335

340

351

369

382

395

408

415

423

431

436

444

455

460

464

473

476

the Journey

The Notice Board

CHORUS: Why do you cry out thus, unless at some vision of

horror? CASSANDRA: The house reeks of death and dripping blood.

CHORUS: How so? 'Tis but the odor of the altar sacrifice. CASSANDRA: The

stench is like a breath from the tomb.

Aeschylus, Agamemnon

The primroses were over. Toward the edge of the wood, where the ground became

open and sloped down to an old fence and a brambly ditch beyond, only a few

fading patches of pale yellow still showed among the dog's mercury and oak-

tree roots. On the other side of the fence, the upper part of the field was

full of rabbit holes. In places the grass was gone altogether and everywhere

there were clusters of dry droppings, through which nothing but the ragwort

would grow. A hundred yards away, at the bottom of the slope, ran the brook,

no more than

THE JOURNEY

three feet wide, half choked with kingcups, watercress and blue brooklime. The

cart track crossed by a brick culvert and climbed the opposite slope to a

five-barred gate in the thorn hedge. The gate led into the lane.

The May sunset was red in clouds, and there was still half an hour to

twilight. The dry slope was dotted with rabbits—some nibbling at the thin

grass near their holes, others pushing further down to look for dandelions or

perhaps a cowslip that the rest had missed. Here and there one sat upright on

an ant heap and looked about, with ears erect and nose in the wind. But a

blackbird, singing undisturbed on the outskirts of the wood, showed that there

was nothing alarming there, and in the other direction, along the brook, all

was plain to be seen, empty and quiet. The warren was at peace.

At the top of the bank, close to the wild cherry where the blackbird sang, was

a little group of holes almost hidden by brambles. In the green half-light, at

the mouth of one of these holes, two rabbits were sitting together side by

side. At length, the larger of the two came out, slipped along the bank under

cover of the brambles and so down into the ditch and up into the field. A few

moments later the other followed.

The first rabbit stopped in a sunny patch and scratched his ear with rapid

movements of his hind leg. Although he was a yearling and still below full

weight, he had not the harassed look of most "outskirters"—that is, the rank

and file of ordinary rabbits in their first year who, lacking either

aristocratic parentage or unusual size and strength, get sat on by their

elders and live as best they can—often in the open—on the edge of their

warren. He looked as though he knew how to take care of himself. There was a

shrewd, buoyant air about him as he sat up, looked around and rubbed both

front paws over his nose. As soon as he was satisfied that all was well, he

laid back his ears and set to work on the grass.

His companion seemed less at ease. He was small, with wide, staring eyes and a

way of raising and turning his head which suggested not so much caution as a

kind of ceaseless, nervous tension. His nose moved con-

The Notice Board

tmually, and when a bumblebee flew humming to a thistle-bloom behind him, he

jumped and spun round with a start that sent two nearby rabbits scurrying for

holes before the nearest, a buck with black-tipped ears, recognized him and

returned to feeding.

"Oh, it's only Fiver," said the black-tipped rabbit, "jumping at bluebottles

again. Come on, Buckthorn, what were you telling me?"

"Fiver?" said the other rabbit. "Why's he called that?'*

"Five in the litter, you know: he was the last—and the smallest. You'd wonder

nothing had got him by now. I always say a man couldn't see him and a fox

wouldn't want him. Still, I admit lie seems to be able to keep out of harm's

way."*

The small rabbit came closer to his companion, lolloping on long hind legs.

"Let's go a bit further, Hazel," he said. "You know, there's something queer

about the warren this evening, although I can't tell exactly what it is. Shall

we go down to the brook?"

"All right," answered Hazel, "and you can find me a cowslip. If you can't find

one, no one can."

He led the way down the slope, his shadow stretching behind him on the grass.

They reached the brook and began nibbling and searching close beside the wheel

ruts of the track.

It was not long before Fiver found what they were looking for. Cowslips are a

delicacy among rabbits, and as a rule there are very few left by late May in

the neighborhood of even a small warren. This one had not bloomed and its flat

spread of leaves was almost hidden under the long grass. They were just

starting on it when

*Rabbits can count up to four. Any number above four is hrair —"a lot," or "a

thousand." Thus they say U Hrair—"The Thousand"—to mean, collectively, all the

enemies (or elil, as they call them) of rabbits—fox, stoat, weasel, cat, owl,

man, etc. There were probably more than five rabbits in the litter when Fiver

was born, but his name, Hrairoo, means "Little Thousand"—i.e., the little one

of a lot or, as they say of pigs, "the runL"

THE JOURNEY

The Notice Board

two larger rabbits came running across from the other

side of the nearby cattle wade.

"Cowslip?" said one. "All right—just leave it to us. Come on, hurry up," he

added, as Fiver hesitated. "You heard me, didn't you?"

"Fiver found it, Toadflax," said Hazel. "And we'll eat it," replied Toadflax.

"Cowslips are for Owsla*—don't you know that? If you don't, we can easily

teach you."

Fiver had already turned away. Hazel caught him up by the culvert.

"I'm sick and tired of it," he said. "It's the same all the time. These are my

claws, so this is my cowslip.' These are my teeth, so this is my burrow.' I'll

tell you, if ever I get into the Owsla, I'll treat outskirters with a bit of

decency."

"Well, you can at least expect to be in the Owsla one day," answered Fiver.

"You've got some weight coming and that's more than I shall ever have."

"You don't suppose I'll leave you to look after yourself, do you?" said Hazel.

"But to tell you the truth, I sometimes feel like clearing out of this warren

altogether. Still, let's forget it now and try to enjoy the evening. I tell

you what—shall we go across the brook? There'll be fewer rabbits and we can

have a bit of peace. Unless you feel it isn't safe?" he added.

The way in which he asked suggested that he did in fact think that Fiver was

likely to know better than himself, and it was clear from Fiver's reply that

this was accepted between them.

"No, it's safe enough," he answered. "If I start feeling there's anything

dangerous I'll tell you. But it's not exact-

•Nearly all warrens have an Owsla, or group of strong or clever rabbits—

second-year or older—surrounding the Chief Rabbit and his doe and exercising

authority. Owslas vary. In one warren, the Owsla may be the band of a warlord:

in another, it may consist largely of clever patrollers or garden-raiders.

Sometimes a good storyteller may find a place; or a seer, or intuitive rabbit.

In the Sandleford warren at this time, the Owsla was rather military in

character (though, as will be seen later, not so military as some).

:#'.

ly danger that I seem to feel about the place. It's—oh, I don't know—something

oppressive, like thunder: I can't tell what; but it worries me. All the same,

I'll come across with you."

They ran over the culvert The grass was wet and thick near the stream and they

made their way up the opposite slope, looking for drier ground. Part of the

slope was in shadow, for the sun was sinking ahead of them, and Hazel, who

wanted a warm, sunny spot, went on until they were quite near the lane. As

they approached the gate he stopped, staring.

"Fiver, what's that? Look!"

A little way hi front of them, the ground had been freshly disturbed. Two

piles of earth lay on the grass. Heavy posts, reeking of creosote and paint,

towered up as high as the holly trees in the hedge, and the board they carried

threw a long shadow across the top of the field. Near one of the posts, a

hammer and a few nails had been left behind.

The two rabbits went up to the board at a hopping run and crouched in a patch

of nettles on the far side, wrinkling then: noses at the smell of a dead

cigarette end somewhere in the grass. Suddenly Fiver shivered and cowered

down.

"Oh, Hazel! This is where it comes from! I know now— something very bad! Some

terrible thing—coming closer and closer."

He began to whimper with fear.

"What sort of thing—what do you mean? I thought you said there was no danger?"

"I don't know what it is," answered Fiver wretchedly. "There isn't any danger

here, at this moment. But it's coming—it's coming. Oh, Hazel, lookl The field!

It's covered with blood!"

"Don't be silly, it's only the light of the sunset. Fiver, come on, don't talk

like this, you're frightening me!'*

Fiver sat trembling and crying among the nettles as Hazel tried to reassure

him and to find out what it could be that had suddenly driven him beside

himself. If he was terrified, why did he not run for safety, as

THE JOURNEY

any sensible rabbit would? But Fiver could not explain and only grew more and

more distressed. At last Hazel said,

"Fiver, you can't sit crying here. Anyway, it's getting dark. We'd better go

back to the burrow."

"Back to the burrow?" whimpered Fiver. "It'll come there—don't think it won't!

I tell you, the field's full of blood—"

"Now stop it," said Hazel firmly. "Just let me look after you for a bit

Whatever the trouble is, it's time we got back."

He ran down the field and over the brook to the cattle wade. Here there was a

delay, for Fiver—surrounded on all sides by the quiet summer evening—became

helpless and almost paralyzed with fear. When at last Hazel had got him back

to the ditch, he refused at first to go underground and Hazel had almost to

push him down the hole.

The sun set behind the opposite slope. The wind turned colder, with a scatter

of rain, and hi less than an hour it was dark. All color had faded from the

sky: and although the big board by the gate creaked slightly in the night wind

(as though to insist that it had not disappeared in the darkness, but was

still firmly where it had been put), there was no passer-by to read the sharp,

hard letters that cut straight as black knives across its white surface. They

said:

THIS IDEALLY SITUATED ESTATE, COMPRISING

six ACRES OF EXCELLENT BUILDING LAND, is TO BE

DEVELOPED WITH HIGH CLASS MODERN RESIDENCES BY SUTCH AND MARTIN, LIMITED, OF

NEWBURY, BERKS.

The Chief Rabbit

The darksome statesman, hung with weights and woe, Like a thick midnight-fog,

moved there so slow, He did not stay, nor go.

Henry Vaughan, The World

In the darkness and warmth of the burrow Hazel suddenly woke, struggling and

kicking with his back legs. Something was attacking him. There was no smell of

ferret or weasel. No instinct told him to run. His head cleared and he

realized that he was alone except for Fiver. It was Fiver who was clambering

over him, clawing and grabbing like a rabbit trying to climb a wire fence in a

panic.

"Fiver! Fiver, wake up, you silly fellowl It's Hazel. You'll hurt me in a

moment. Wake up!"

He held him down. Fiver struggled and woke.

"Oh, Hazel! I was dreaming. It was dreadful. You were there. We were sitting

on water, going down a great, deep stream, and then I realized we were on a

board— like that board in the field—all white and covered with black lines.

There were other rabbits there—bucks and does. But when I looked down, I saw

the board was all made of bones and wire; and I screamed and you said, *Swim—

everybody swim'; and then I was looking for you everywhere and trying to drag

you out of a hole in the bank, I found you, but you said, 'The Chief Rabbit

must go alone,' and you floated away down a dark tunnel of water."

"Well, you've hurt my ribs, anyway. Tunnel of water indeed! What rubbish! Can

we go back to sleep now?'*

"Hazel—the danger, the bad thing. It hasn't gone

THE JOURNEY

The Chief Rabbit

away. It's here—all round us. Don't tell me to forget about it and go to

sleep. We've got to go away before it's too late."

"Go away? From here, you mean? From the warren?"

"Yes. Very soon. It doesn't matter where."

"Just you and I?"

"No, everyone."

"The whole warren? Don't be silly. They won't come. They'll say you're out of

your wits."

"Then they'll be here when the bad thing comes. You must listen to me, Hazel.

Believe me, something very bad is close upon us and we ought to go away."

"Well, I suppose we'd better go and see the Chief Rabbit and you can tell him

about it. Or I'll try to. But I don't expect he'll like the idea at all."

Hazel led the way down the slope of the ran and up toward the bramble curtain.

He did not want to believe Fiver, and he was afraid not to.

It was a little after ni-Frith, or noon. The whole warren were underground,

mostly asleep. Hazel and Fiver went a short way above ground and then into a

wide, open hole in a sand patch and so down, by various runs, until they were

thirty feet into the wood, among the roots of an oak. Here they were stopped

by a large, heavily built rabbit—one of the Owsla. He had a curious, heavy

growth of fur on the crown of his head, which gave him an odd appearance, as

though he were wearing a kind of cap. This had given him his name, Thlayli,

which means, literally, "Furhead" or, as we might say, "Bigwig."

"Hazel?" said Bigwig, sniffing at him in the deep twilight among the tree

roots. "It is Hazel, isn't it? What are you doing here? And at this time of

day?" He ignored Fiver, who was waiting further down the run.

"We want to see the Chief Rabbit," said Hazel. "It's important, Bigwig. Can

you help us?"

"We?" said Bigwig. "Is he going to see him, too?"

"Yes, he must. Do trust me, Bigwig. I don't usually come and talk like this,

do I? When did I ever ask to see the Chief Rabbit before?"

"Well, I'll do it for you, Hazel, although I'll probably

-get my head bitten off. I'll tell him I know you're a sensible fellow. He

ought to know you himself, of course, but he's getting old. Wait here, will

you?"

Bigwig went a little way down the run and stopped at the entrance to a large

burrow. After speaking a few words that Hazel could not catch, he was

evidently called inside. The two rabbits waited in silence, broken only by the

continual nervous fidgeting of Fiver.

The Chief Rabbit's name and style was Threarah, meaning "Lord Rowan Tree." For

some reason he was always referred to as "The Threarah"—perhaps because there

happened to be only one threar, or rowan, near the warren, from which he took

his name. He had won his position not only by strength in his prime, but also

by level-headedness and a certain self-contained detachment, quite unlike the

impulsive behavior of most rabbits. It was well known that he never let

himself become excited by rumor or danger. He had coolly—some even said

coldly—stood firm during the terrible onslaught of the myxomatosis, ruthlessly

driving out every rabbit who seemed to be sickening. He had resisted all ideas

of mass emigration and enforced complete isolation on the warren, thereby

almost certainly saving it from extinction. It was he, too, who had once dealt

with a particularly troublesome stoat by leading it down among the pheasant

coops and so (at the risk of his own life) onto a keeper's gun. He was now, as

Bigwig said, getting old, but his wits were still clear enough. When Hazel and

Fiver were brought in, he greeted them politely. Owsla like Toadflax might

threaten and bully. The Threarah had no need.

"Ah, Walnut. It is Walnut, isn't it?"

"Hazel," said Hazel.

"Hazel, of course. How very nice of you to come and see me. I knew your mother

well. And your friend—"

"My brother."

"Your brother," said the Threarah, with the faintest . suggestion of "Don't

correct me any more, will you?" in his voice. "Do make yourselves comfortable.

Have some lettuce?"

The Chief Rabbit's lettuce was stolen by the Owsla

THE JOURNEY

from a garden half a mile away across the fields. Out-skitters seldom or never

saw lettuce. Hazel took a small leaf and nibbled politely. Fiver refused, and

sat blinking and twitching miserably.

"Now, how are things with you?" said the Chief Rabbit. "Do tell me how I can

help you."

"Well, sir," said Hazel rather hesitantly, "it's because of my brother—Fiver

here. He can often tell when there's anything bad about, and I've found him

right again and again. He knew the flood was coming last autumn and sometimes

he can tell where a wire's been set. And now he says he can sense a bad danger

coining upon the warren."

"A bad danger. Yes, I see. How very upsetting," said the Chief Rabbit, looking

anything but upset. "Now, what sort of danger, I wonder?" He looked at Fiver.

"I don't know," said Fiver. "B-but it's bad. It's so fa-bad that—it's very

bad," he concluded miserably.

The Threarah waited politely for a few moments and then he said, "Well, now,

and what ought we to do about it, I wonder?"

"Go away," said Fiver instantly. "Go away. All of us. Now. Threarah, sir, we

must all go away."

The Threarah waited again. Then, in an extremely understanding voice, he said,

"Well, I never did! That's rather a tall order, isn't it? What do you think

yourself?"

"Well, sir," said Hazel, "my brother doesn't really think about these feelings

he gets. He just has the feelings, if you see what I mean. I'm sure you're the

right person to decide what we ought to do."

"Well, that's very nice of you to say that. I hope I am. But now, my dear

fellows, let's just think about this a moment, shall we? It's May, isn't it?

Everyone's busy and most of the rabbits are enjoying themselves. No elil for

miles, or so they tell me. No illness, good weather. And you want me to tell

the warren that young—er—young— er—your brother here has got a hunch and we

must all go traipsing across country to goodness knows where and risk the

consequences, eh? What do you think they'll say? All delighted, eh?"

The Chief RabMt 21

They'd take it from you," said Fiver suddenly.

"That's very nice of you," said the Threarah again. "Well, perhaps they would,

perhaps they would. But I should have to consider it very carefully indeed. A

m« serious step, of course. And then—"

"But there's no time, Threarah, sir," blurted out Fiver. "I can feel the

danger like a wire round my neck—like a wire— Hazel, help!" He squealed and

rolled over in the sand, kicking frantically, as a rabbit does in a snare.

Hazel held him down with both forepaws and he grew quieter.

"I'm awfully sorry, Chief Rabbit," said Hazel. "He gets like this sometimes.

He'll be all right in a minute."

"What a shame! What a shame! Poor fellow, perhaps he ought to go home and

rest. Yes, you'd better take him along now. Well, it's really been extremely

good of you to come and see me, Walnut. I appreciate it very much indeed. And

I shall think over all you've said most carefully, you can be quite sure of

that. Bigwig, just wait a moment, will you?"

As Hazel and Fiver made their way dejectedly down the run outside the

Threarah's burrow, they could just hear, from inside, the Chief Rabbit's voice

assuming a rather sharper note, interspersed with an occasional "Yes, sir,"

"No, sir."

Bigwig, as he had predicted, was getting his head bitten off.

THB JOURNEY

Hazel's Decision

What am I lying here for? ... We are lying here as though we had * chance of

enjoying a quiet time. ... An I waiting until I become a little older?

Xenophon, The Anabasis

"But, Hazel, you didn't really think the Chief Rabbit would act on your

advice, did you? What were you expecting?"

It was evening once more and Hazel and Fiver were feeding outside the wood

with two friends. Blackberry, the rabbit with tipped ears who had been

startled by Fiver the night before, had listened carefully to Hazel's

description of the notice board, remarking that he had al-. ways felt sure

that men left these things about to act as signs or messages of some kind, in

the same way that rabbits left marks on runs and gaps. It was another

neighbor, Dandelion, who had now brought the talk back to the Threarah and his

indifference to Fiver's fear.

"I don't know what I expected," said Hazel. "I'd never been near the Chief

Rabbit before. But I thought, 'Well, even if he won't listen, at least no one

cay say afterward that we didn't do our best to warn him.'"

"You're sure, then, that there's really something to be afraid of?"

"I'm quite certain. I've always known Fiver, you see."

Blackberry was about to reply when another rabbit came noisily through the

thick dog's mercury in the wood, blundered down into the brambles and pushed

his way up from the ditch. It was Bigwig.

"Hello, Bigwig," said Hazel. "You're off duty?'*

"Off duty" said Bigwig, "and likely to remain off duty.'*

"How do you mean?'*

"I've left the Owsla, that's what I mean."

"Not on our account?"

"You could say that. The Threarah's rather good at making himself unpleasant

when he's been woken up at ni-Frith for what he considers a piece of trivial

nonsense. He certainly knows how to get under your skin. I dare say a good

many rabbits would have kept quiet and thought about keeping on the right side

of the Chief, but I'm afraid I'm not much good at that. I told him that the

Owsla's privileges didn't mean all that much to me in any case and that a

strong rabbit could always do just as well by leaving the warren. He told me

not to be impulsive and think it over, but I shan't stay. Lettuce-stealing

isn't my idea of a jolly life, nor sentry duty in the burrow. I'm in a fine

temper, I can tell you."

"No one will steal lettuces soon," said Fiver quietly.

"Oh, that's you, Fiver, is it?" said Bigwig, noticing him for the first time.

"Good, I was coming to look for you. I've been thinking about what you said to

the Chief Rabbit. Tell me, is it a sort of tremendous hoax to make yourself

important, or is it true?"

"It is true," said Fiver. "I wish it weren't.'*

*Then you'll be leaving the warren?"

They were all startled by the bluntness with which Bigwig went to the point.

Dandelion muttered, "Leave the warren, Frithrah!" while Blackberry twitched

his ears and looked very intently, first at Bigwig and then at Hazel.

It was Hazel who replied. "Fiver and I will be leaving - the warren tonight,"

he said deliberately. "I don't know exactly where we shall go, but we'll take

anyone who's ready to come with us."

"Right," said Bigwig, "then you can take me."

The last thing Hazel had expected was the immediate support of a member of the

Owsla. It crossed his mind . that although Bigwig would certainly be a useful

rabbit in a tight corner, he would also be a difficult one to get on with. He

certainly would not want to do what he was told—or even asked—by an

outskirter. "I don't care if he is in the Owsla," thought Hazel. "If we get

away

THE JOURNEY

from die warren, I'm not going^to let Bigwig run everything, or why bother to

go?" But he answered only, "Good. We shall be glad to have you."

He looked round at the other rabbits, who were all staring either at Bigwig or

at himself. It was Blackberry who spoke next.

"I think I'll come," he said. "I don't quite know whether it's you who've

persuaded me, Fiver. But anyway, there are too many bucks in this warren, and

it's pretty poor fun for any rabbit that's not in the Owsla. The funny thing

is that you feel terrified to stay and I feel terrified to go. Foxes here,

weasels there, Fiver in the middle, begone dull care!"

He pulled out a burnet leaf and ate it slowly, concealing his fear as best he

could; for all his instincts were warning him of the dangers in the unknown

country beyond the warren.

"If we believe Fiver," said Hazel, "it means that we think no rabbits at all

ought to stay here. So between now and the time when we go, we ought to

persuade as many as we can to join us."

"I think there are one or two in the Owsla who might be worth sounding," said

Bigwig. "If I can talk them over, they'll be with me when I join you tonight.

But they won't come because of Fiver. They'll be juniors, discontented fellows

like me. You need to have heard Fiver yourself to be convinced by him. He's

convinced me. It's obvious that he's been sent some kind of message, and I

believe in these things. I can't think why he didn't convince the Threarah."

"Because the Threarah doesn't like anything he hasn't thought of for himself,"

answered Hazel. "But we can't bother with him any more now. We've got to try

to collect some more rabbits and meet again here, fu Inl£. And we'll start fu

Inle, too: we can't wait longer. The danger's coming closer all the tune—

whatever it is—and, besides, the Threarah isn't going to like it if he finds

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AnovelbyRichardAdamsAVONPUBLISHERSOFBARD,CAMaOT,DISCUS,EQUINOXANDFLAREBOOKSToJuliet'andRosamond,rememberingtheroadtoStratjord-on-AvonNoteNuthangerFarmisarealplace,likealltheotherplacesinthebook.ButMr,andMrs.Cane,theirlittlegirlLucyandtheirfarmhandsarefictitiousandbearnointentionalresemblancetoanyper...

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Richard Adams - Watership Down

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