Hazel led the way down the slope of the run and up towards 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 farther 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 behaviour of most rabbits. It was well-known that he never let himself become excited by rumour 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) on to 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 from a garden half a mile away across the fields. Outskirters 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 coming 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 b-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 trapesing across country to goodness knows where and risk the consequences, eh? What do you think they'll say? All delighted, eh?'
'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 most 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.'