"You're not home yet," said the rat, showing its yellow teeth in an odious grin. "Not yet. Oh, no."
El-ahrairah made no reply, and for a little while there was silence.
"You'll never get through that forest," said the rat at length. "No one ever has, so far as I know."
"Do you know anyone who might help us, perhaps?" asked Rabscuttle.
"The only creature who might be able to help you, if he had a mind to it"--the rat sniggered--"would be Old Brock; but he'd be more likely to eat you than help you."
"Where can we find him?" asked El-ahrairah.
"He's not easily found," replied the rat. "He's always up and down along the edge of that forest, grubbing about. If you go up and down the edge too, he may find you. It's as good a way to be killed as any. Why should he help you? Have you thought of that?" It gave a sudden leap and was gone through the hedgerow.
It was getting on for ni-Frith on the following day before the two rabbits reached the outskirts of the forest. They were rough and wild, and to look further into it was not encouraging, to say the least. There seemed to be no big trees, which they took to mean that the trees were never thinned or cut back at all. The forest was an unkempt wilderness. The trees grew together so closely that even now, at midday, they shut out a great deal of the light. The undergrowth was thick; so thick; that even the rabbits, accustomed to creeping through difficult places, could not see any way through it. They went further along the edge and looked again, but saw nothing better. El-ahrairah, who was persistent and not easily discouraged, continued looking along the outskirts for a long time, but at length was forced to admit himself at a loss.
"I suppose we'll have to try to find that Old Brock the rat talked about," he said to Rabscuttle.
"But if he's as likely to eat us as help us?" said Rabscuttle.
"He won't eat me in a hurry," replied El-ahrairah. "I tell you, I'm determined to get through that forest, and if it can only be done with the help of Old Brock, then I'm going to find him. And I've just had a thought. We're probably more likely to find him by night than by day, confound it."
Rabbits do not care to be about in darkness, which frightens them. Dawn and evening are their natural activity times. That night, even El-ahrairah felt a good deal of apprehension about setting out along the outskirts of the forest. The waning moon gave very little light, and every slight night sound, its source only to be guessed, was like an alarm. They made little progress and startled continually. However, they were lucky (if a swift outcome to a search of this kind could be called "lucky"). The night was not half gone when El-ahrairah, crouched at the foot of a tree and listening carefully, suddenly felt himself held down by a great paw, while a deep but very low voice said, "What are you doing here? Why are you here at all?"
El-ahrairah was half smothered and could not speak. It was greatly to Rabscuttle's credit that he did not run away but answered, "We are looking for--er--Lord Brock. Are you he, my lord?"
The huge badger made no move to release El-ahrairah as it said, "If I am, what does it matter to you? Why have you been looking for me?"
"We have to go through the forest, my lord--through it to the other side. It's our only way home. We've been told that nobody but you can help us."
At this, the badger raised its paw and allowed El-ahrairah to crawl out and sit up. It looked at the rabbits with a grim and hostile expression.
"Why do you suppose that I'll help you?"
"We have come a long way and overcome many difficulties and dangers. We know you are the lord of this forest and can spare or kill whomever you choose. Pray, my lord, be patient while I tell you what we have undergone and how we come to be here."
And then, squatting in the waning moonlight at the feet of the lendri, El-ahrairah told it of King Darzin and the plight of his rabbits, of how Rabscuttle and he had confronted the Black Rabbit of Inle, and of the dangers they had encountered in their journeyings since that time. "And we beg you, my lord," he ended, "to grant us your protection and help to overcome this last obstacle between ourselves and a peaceful homecoming. If there is any way in which we can help you or be of service to you, we'll gladly undertake it. You have only to command, and we'll do your bidding."
"I have a sett near here," growled the lendri. "You had better come with me."
They went with it as best they could along the tangled forest verge until they came to a kind of shallow pit, in one side of which was a great hole. In front of this lay a pile of earth mixed with withered grass and bracken. The lendri went down the hole, and the rabbits followed.
It was a daunting place: a maze of tunnels, leading in all directions and extending, so it seemed, over long distances. Indeed, the tunnels were so long that the rabbits became exhausted and had to beg the lendri to let them rest. But after a short time it became impatient and went on without a word, so that they were forced to stumble along behind it as best they could or else be left alone in the dark.
At last it stopped at a place which seemed no different from any other in the tunnels, except for being lined with straw and dried grass and for the overpowering stench of badger. The lendri lay down, waited for the rabbits to come up and then said, "How do you suppose that you can be of use to me?"
"We can forage for you, my lord," said El-ahrairah.
"Tell us what you eat, and we'll find it and bring it to you."
"I eat everything. Chiefly worms; and beetles, caterpillars, grubs, slugs and snails when they're to be found."
"We'll bring you plenty, my lord, if only you'll guide us through the forest when you're ready."
"Then you can start now."
It led them back aboveground to the forest verge. And now began surely the strangest life that rabbits can ever have led. Each night they met the lendri and foraged with it, sometimes in the forest, but usually in fields and even in the gardens of nearby houses. It was a long and tiring business, for the lendri was voracious and kept them at work until daybreak and sometimes after. It was horrible work for rabbits. Often they dug in wet places for worms or, after rain, simply collected them aboveground. They carried them to the lendri in their mouths: not only worms but also slugs and snails and every small living creature they could find. Sometimes, although it was late in the season, they came upon pheasants' nests, and the lendri would crunch up the eggs with relish. Mice could often be caught, since by instinct they were not afraid of rabbits. At first the rabbits were nauseated by mouthing worms and slugs, but as they grew used to it, they ceased to be troubled at all.
Harder to bear was the dislike and contempt they incurred among their fellow creatures. As they became known in the fields and copses, they came to be universally hated and despised. For several nights, from tree to tree, a squirrel followed them, chattering, "Slaves! Lendri's slaves! Work harder or Master will be angry." On another night a wounded and helpless rat sneered, "I'm delighted to be of use to the cowardly rabbits." Owls gave warning of their approach, and voles squeaked insults from the safety of their holes. It was as depressing and unnatural a life as could be for rabbits, by nature gregarious and the least carnivorous of creatures. They grew surly and short-tempered with each other and often felt on the point of giving up the disgusting work and running away. And yet they knew the lendri was their only hope of getting home.