'Here.'
'All night?'
'Yes. A yew tree gives good shelter, you know.'
Hazel was now seriously worried. If Fiver's horrors had kept him above ground all night in the rain, oblivious of cold and prowling elil, then clearly it was not going to be easy to talk him out of them. He was silent for some time. At last he said, 'What a shame! I still think you'd do better to come and join us. But I'll let you alone now and come and see how you're feeling later. Don't go eating the yew tree, either.'
Fiver made no reply and Hazel went back to the field.
The day was certainly not one to encourage foreboding. By ni-Frith it was so hot that the lower part of the field was humid. The air was heavy with thick, herbal smells, as though it were already late June; the water-mint and marjoram, not yet flowering, gave off scent from their leaves and here and there an early meadow-sweet stood in bloom. The chiff-chaff was busy all morning, high in a silver birch near the abandoned holes across the dip; and from deep in the copse, somewhere by the disused well, came the beautiful song of the blackcap. By early afternoon there was a stillness of heat, and a herd of cows from the higher fields slowly grazed their way down into the shade. Only a few of the rabbits remained above ground. Almost all were asleep in the burrows. But still Fiver sat alone under the yew tree.
In the early evening Hazel sought out Bigwig and together they ventured into the copse behind the warren. At first they moved cautiously, but before long they grew confident at finding no trace of any creature larger than a mouse.
'There's nothing to smell,' said Bigwig, 'and no tracks. I think Cowslip's told us no more than the truth. There really aren't any elil here. Different from that wood where we crossed the river. I don't mind telling you, Hazel, I was scared stiff that night, but I wasn't going to show it.'
'So was I,' answered Hazel. 'But I agree with you about this place. It seems completely clear. If we -'
'This is odd, though,' interrupted Bigwig. He was in a clump of brambles, in the middle of which was a rabbit-hole that led up from one of the warren passages below. The ground was soft and damp, with old leaves thick in the mould. Where Bigwig had stopped there were signs of commotion. The rotten leaves had been thrown up in showers. Some were hanging on the brambles and a few flat, wet clots were lying well out in open ground beyond the clump. In the centre the earth had been laid bare and was scored with long scratches and furrows, and there was a narrow, regular hole, about the same size as one of the carrots they had carried that morning. The two rabbits sniffed and stared, but could make nothing of it.
'The funny thing is there's no smell,' said Bigwig.
'No - only rabbit, and that's everywhere, of course. And man - that's everywhere too. But that smell might very well have nothing to do with it. All it tells us is that a man walked through the wood and threw a white stick down. It wasn't a man that tore up this ground.'
'Well, these mad rabbits probably dance in the moonlight or something.'
'I wouldn't be surprised,' said Hazel. 'It would be just like them. Let's ask Cowslip.'
'That's the only silly thing you've said so far. Tell me, since we came here has Cowslip answered any question you've asked him?'
'Well, no - not many.'
'Try asking him where he dances in the moonlight. Say "Cowslip, where -" '
'Oh, you've noticed that too, have you? He won't answer "Where" anything. Neither will Strawberry. I think they may be nervous of us. Pipkin was right when he said they weren't fighters. So they're keeping up a mystery to stay even with us. It's best just to put up with it. We don't want to upset them and it's bound to smooth itself out in time.'
'There's more rain coming tonight,' said Bigwig. 'Soon, too, I think. Let's go underground and see if we can get them to talk a bit more freely.'
'I think that's something we can only wait for. But I agree about going underground now. And for goodness' sake let's get Fiver to come with us. He troubles me. Do you know he was out all night in the rain?'
As they went back through the copse Hazel recounted his talk with Fiver that morning. They found him under the yew tree and after a rather stormy scene, during which Bigwig grew rough and impatient, he was bullied rather than persuaded into going down with them into the great burrow.
It was crowded, and as the rain began to fall more rabbits came down the runs. They pushed about, cheerful and chattering. The carrots which had been brought in were eaten between friends or carried away to does and families in burrows all over the warren. But when they were finished the hall remained full. It was pleasantly warm with the heat of so many bodies. Gradually the talkative groups settled into a contented silence, but no one seemed disposed to go to sleep. Rabbits are lively at nightfall, and when evening rain drives them underground they still feel gregarious. Hazel noticed that almost all his companions seemed to have become friendly with the warren rabbits. Also, he found that whenever he moved into one group or another, the warren rabbits evidently knew who he was and treated him as the leader of the newcomers. He could not find Strawberry, but after a time Cowslip came up to him from the other end of the hall.
'I'm glad you're here, Hazel,' he said. 'Some of our lot are suggesting a story from somebody. We're hoping one of your people would like to tell one, but we can begin ourselves, if you'd prefer.'
There is a rabbit saying, 'In the warren, more stories than passages'; and a rabbit can no more refuse to tell a story than an Irishman can refuse to fight. Hazel and his friends conferred. After a short time Blackberry announced, 'We've asked Hazel to tell you about our adventures: how we made our journey here and had the good luck to join you.'
There was an uncomfortable silence, broken only by shuffling and whispering. Blackberry, dismayed, turned back to Hazel and Bigwig.
'What's the matter?' he asked in a low voice. 'Surely there's no harm in that?'
'Wait,' replied Hazel quietly. 'Let them tell us if they don't like it. They have their own ways here.'
However, the silence continued for some time, as though the other rabbits did not care to mention what they thought was wrong.
'It's no good,' said Blackberry at last. 'You'll have to say something yourself, Hazel. No, why should you? I'll do it.' He spoke up again.' On second thoughts, Hazel remembers that we have a good story-teller among us. Dandelion will tell you a story of El-ahrairah. That can't go wrong, anyway,' he whispered.
'Which one, though?' said Dandelion.