"But what for? What's the matter?"
"Why, he doesn't just smell of men; he reeks of them," said Woodruff. "Can't you smell him, Hazelrah? Wild rabbits always have to kill a rabbit who smells of men. You know that, surely?"
Hazel did know it; had always known it as an unalterable linchpin of rabbit lore. However, he had never before seen it being put into effect. These rabbits were putting it into effect by instinct, without stopping to ask questions.
Now, with the fighting having been broken off for the moment, he certainly could smell the stranger. Involuntarily, the horrible stink made him tense with fear, so that he almost turned to run. With an effort, he pulled himself together. The four rabbits were watching his reaction closely.
"You can't say we're doing wrong, can you, Hazelrah?" said Woodruff. "Just leave us to finish."
"No," said Hazel, with all the wavering determination he could muster. "I need to talk to him; to find out how he came to smell like this. There may be some danger threatening us all."
Meeting their eyes, he could see their antagonism. His authority was hanging in the balance. But t
o say more now would be to admit doubt, to blather. He waited silently.
Hazel's standing as Chief Rabbit was high. No one resented it, and he had no enemies. However, as he realized, it was touch and go now. At length, after a considerable pause, Peerton said, "Well, Hazelrah, I hope you know what you're doing. Most of the warren aren't going to like this at all."
Still Hazel added nothing, only waiting for what he had said to prevail. Peerton looked round at his companions. Finally he said, "Everyone is going to hear of this," and slowly made off, the other three following him with no attempt to hide their feelings.
"Get up," said Hazel to the stranger. "You'd better come with me. In case you're wondering who I am, I'm the Chief Rabbit round here. You'll be safe with me."
The stranger, with some difficulty, scrambled to his feet. There was an ugly, deep gash all across his back, and one of his ears was torn. Hazel, taking him in, realized that though young, he was of formidable size and build; almost as hefty as Bigwig.
"What's your name?" he asked.
"Stonecrop," replied the other.
"Well," said Hazel, "I want you to come with me to my burrow. I need to talk to you." And as Stonecrop hesitated: "Brace up. No one's going to hurt you."
They went together the short distance through the trees and down into the Honeycomb, where a little crowd of rabbits were loitering, chatting together and preparing to enjoy the fine day. As Stonecrop appeared, one and all shrank back in startled alarm and repulsion. In the enclosed Honeycomb, Stonecrop smelled still worse. Even those rabbits who had never actually smelled a man grew tense and horrified.
Hazel gazed round at them. "This is a rabbit I found outside just now. I know what you're all feeling, but I mean to talk to him, to find out something about him and how he came to smell like this."
"But great jumping horseflies, Hazelrah!" cried Hawkbit. "What on earth--"
"Shut up!" replied Hazel sharply. "You all heard me. Let him alone. And Hyzenthlay, will you come with me to my burrow?"
Once again he had the strong impression that they were shocked and obeyed him only with difficulty. Every rabbit instinct, every pattern of rabbit behavior, was weighing against him. He forced himself to walk slowly across the Honeycomb, followed by Hyzenthlay and the badly frightened Stonecrop.
"Now take it easy," said Hazel, as soon as the three of them had reached his burrow. "Have a rest. Go to sleep if you like. How do you feel?"
"Could be worse," answered Stonecrop. "I'm ready to talk, if that's what you want."
"Well," said Hazel, "you obviously know, of course, that you smell very strongly of Man and that that's why all these rabbits are against you and feel they have to kill you. Hyzenthlay and I want to know how you've come to smell like this and whether we have anything to fear from the men you've been with."
For some little time, Stonecrop made no reply. At length he said, "I've never had anything to do with wild rabbits before."
"How's that come about, then?" said Hazel.
"I was born in a hutch," replied Stonecrop. "There were four of us in the litter, two does and two bucks--counting me, that is. As soon as our eyes were open and we had some fur, our mother told us how she'd been hit by a hrududu and knocked unconscious a good many days before we were born. The men in the hrududu, she said, had picked her up and taken her home with them. They'd expected her to die, but she didn't and they'd put her in this hutch, where she gave birth to us. There were two human children--girls--who used to give her food and water. She was a very big, strong doe, was our mother, and that's why she hadn't died when the hrududu hit her and why she didn't die in the hutch."
"What was her name?" asked Hyzenthlay.
"Thrennion," answered Stonecrop. "She told us that thrennions are pretty red berries that grow on bushes in winter, but of course I've never seen thrennion berries--not yet.
"Well, she recovered--or partly recovered, anyway--and was able to suckle us, so that we grew up. The human girls looked after us carefully, and as we got bigger they used to bring us dandelion leaves and chopped-up carrots--we learned those names from Mother. I was the biggest and strongest of us, and one of the human girls used to make a great fuss of me. She'd lift me out of the hutch and hold me to show to her friends. I think she hoped I'd grow up tame, but I didn't. I used to struggle, and I was always looking for a chance to get away; but she held me tightly. And anyway, before she took me out of the hutch, she used to shut all the doors and windows, so I thought there was no chance.
"I'm surprised we lived, for we were always fretting and pining. We were unhappy. Mother used to tell us stories about life in the wild and said that we must always be watching for any chance there might be to get away.