'It's all forgotten,' answered Hazel. 'I'd better ask Cowslip what we're supposed to do about taking some of this stuff back to the warren.'
He found Cowslip near the spring. He had evidently finished feeding and was washing his face with his front paws.
'Are there roots here every day?' asked Hazel.' Where -' He checked himself just in time.' I'm learning,' he thought.
'Not always roots,' replied Cowslip. 'These are last year's, as you'll have noticed. I suppose the remains are being cleared out. It may be anything - roots, green stuff, old apples: it all depends. Sometimes there's nothing at all, especially in good summer weather. But in hard weather, in winter, there's nearly always something. Big roots, usually, or kale, or sometimes corn. We eat that too, you know.'
'Food's no problem, then. The whole place ought to be full of rabbits. I suppose -'
'If you really have finished,' interrupted Cowslip, '- and there's no hurry; do take your time - you could try carrying. It's easy with these roots - easier than anything except lettuce. You simply bite on one, take it back to the warren and put it in the great burrow. I generally take two at a time, but then I've had a lot of practice. Rabbits don't usually carry food, I know, but you'll learn. It's useful to have a store. The does need some for their young when they're getting bigger; and it's particularly convenient for all of us in bad weather. Come back with me and I'll help if you find the carrying difficult at first.'
It took Hazel some trouble to learn to grip half a carrot in his mouth and carry it, like a dog, across the field and back to the warren. He had to put it down several times. But Cowslip was encouraging and he was determined to keep up his position as the resourceful leader of the newcomers. At his suggestion they both waited at the mouth of one of the larger holes to see how his companions were shaping. They all seemed to be making an effort and doing their best, although the smaller rabbits - especially Pipkin - clearly found the task an awkward one.
'Cheer up, Pipkin,' said Hazel. 'Think how much you'll enjoy eating it tonight. Anyway, I'm sure Fiver must find it as hard as you: he's just as small.'
'I don't know where he is,' said Pipkin. 'Have you seen him?'
Now that Hazel thought about it, he had not. He became a little anxious, and, as he returned across the field with Cowslip, did his best to explain something of Fiver's peculiar temperament. 'I do hope he's all right,' he said. 'I think perhaps I'll go and look for him when we've carried this next lot. Have you any idea where he might be?'
He waited for Cowslip to reply but he was disappointed. After a few moments Cowslip said,' Look, do you see those jackdaws hanging round the carrots? They've been a nuisance for several days now. I must get someone to try to keep them off until we've finished carrying. But they're really too big for a rabbit to tackle. Now sparrows -'
'What's that got to do with Fiver?' asked Hazel sharply.
'In fact,' said Cowslip, breaking into a run, 'I'll go myself.'
But he did not engage the jackdaws and Hazel saw him pick up another carrot and start back with it. Annoyed, he joined Buckthorn and Dandelion and the three of them returned together. As they came up to the warren bank he su
ddenly caught sight of Fiver. He was sitting half-concealed under the low spread of a yew tree on the edge of the copse, some way from the holes of the warren. Putting down his carrot, Hazel ran across, scrambled up the bank and joined him on the bare ground under the low, close boughs. Fiver said nothing and continued to stare over the field.
'Aren't you coming to learn to carry, Fiver?' asked Hazel at length. 'It's not too difficult once you get the hang of it.'
'I'll have nothing to do with it,' answered Fiver in a low voice. 'Dogs - you're like dogs carrying sticks.'
'Fiver! Are you trying to make me angry? I'm not going to get angry because you call me stupid names. But you're letting the others do all the work.'
'I'm the one who ought to get angry,' said Fiver. 'But I'm no good at it, that's the trouble. Why should they listen to me? Half of them think I'm mad. You're to blame, Hazel, because you know I'm not and still you won't listen.'
'So you don't like this warren any better even now? Well, I think you're wrong. Everyone makes mistakes sometimes. Why shouldn't you make a mistake, like everybody else? Hawkbit was wrong in the heather and you're wrong now.'
"Those are rabbits down there, trotting along like a lot of squirrels with nuts. How can that be right?'
'Well, I'd say they've copied a good idea from the squirrels and that makes them better rabbits.'
'Do you suppose the man, whoever he is, puts the roots out there because he has a kind heart? What's he up to?'
'He's just throwing away rubbish. How many rabbits have had a good meal off men's rubbish heaps? Shot lettuces, old turnips? You know we all do, when we can. It's not poisoned, Fiver, I can tell you that. And if he wanted to shoot rabbits he's had plenty of chances this morning. But he hasn't done it.'
Fiver seemed to grow even smaller as he flattened himself on the hard earth. 'I'm a fool to try to argue,' he said miserably.' Hazel - dear old Hazel - it's simply that I know there's something unnatural and evil twisted all round this place. I don't know what it is, so no wonder I can't talk about it. I keep getting near it, though. You know how you poke your nose against wire netting and push it up against an apple tree, but you still can't bite the bark because of the wire. I'm close to this - whatever it is - but I can't grip it. If I sit here alone I may reach it yet.'
'Fiver, why not do as I say? Have a meal on those roots and then go underground and sleep. You'll feel all the better for it.'
'I tell you I'll have nothing to do with the place,' said Fiver. 'As for going underground, I'd rather go back over the heather. The roof of that hall is made of bones.'
'No, no - tree roots. But after all, you were underground all night.'
'I wasn't,' said Fiver.
'What? Where were you then?'