Very soon, the digging was resumed. The hole was deep now - deeper than Woundwort had expected and still there was no sign of a fall. But all three rabbits could sense that not far below them there lay a hollow space.
'Keep at it,' said Woundwort. 'It won't take long now.'
When Campion came in, he reported that he had seen three rabbits running away over the down to the north. One appeared to be the lame rabbit. He had been about to pursue them but had returned in response to the order brought by Thistle.
'It doesn't matter,' said Woundwort. 'Let them go. There'll be three less when we get in. What, you again?' he snapped, as Ragwort appeared beside him. 'What is it this time?'
'The open run, sir,' said Ragwort. 'It's been broken in and stopped from down below.'
'Then you can start doing something useful,' said Woundwort. 'Get that root out. No, that one, you fool.'
The digging continued, as the first streaks of light began to come into the east.
The great field at the foot of the escarpment had been reaped, but the straw had not yet been burned and lay in long, pale rows upon the darker stubble, tenting over the bristling stalks and the weeds of harvest - knot-grass and pimpernel, fluellen and speedwell, heartsease and persicary - colourless and still in the old moonlight. Between the lines of straw the expanse of stubble was as open as the down.
'Now,' said Hazel, as they came out from the belt of hawthorn and dogwood where the pylon stood, 'are you both sure you understand what we're going to do?'
'It's a tall order, isn't it, Hazel-rah?' answered Dandelion. 'But we've got to try it, that's certain. There's nothing else that'll save the warren now.'
'Come on, then,' said Hazel.' The going's easy, anyway - half as far now the field's been cut. Don't bother about cover - just run in the open. Keep with me, though. I'll go as fast as I can.'
They crossed the field easily enough, Dandelion running ahead. The only alarm came when they startled four partridges, which whirred away over the hedge to the west and sailed down, spread-winged, into the field beyond. Soon they reached the road and Hazel halted among the quickset on top of the nearer bank.
'Now, Blackberry,' he said, 'this is where we leave you. Lie close and don't move. When the time comes, don't break too soon. You've got the best head of any of us. Use it - and keep it, too. When you get back, go to ground in Kehaar's run and stay there till things are safe. Have you got your line clear?'
'Yes, Hazel-rah,' replied Blackberry. 'But as far as I can see, I may have to run from here to the iron tree without a check. There's no cover.'
'I know,' said Hazel. 'It can't be helped. If the worst comes to the worst, you'll have to turn for the hedge and then keep popping in and out of it. Do whatever you like. There's no time for us to stay and work it out. Only make sure you get back to the warren. It all depends on you.'
Blackberry burrowed his way into the moss and ivy round the base of the thorn. The other two crossed the road and made uphill towards the sheds beside the lane.
'Good roots they keep there,' said Hazel, as they passed them and reached the hedge. ' 'Pity
we've no time just now. When this is over we'll have a nice, quiet raid on the place.'
'I hope we do, Hazel-rah,' said Dandelion. 'Are you going straight up the lane? What about cats?'
'It's the quickest way,' said Hazel. 'That's all that matters now.'
By this time the first light was clear and several larks were up. As they approached the great ring of elm trees, they heard once more the quick sighing and rustling above them and one yellow leaf came spinning down to the edge of the ditch. They reached the top of the slope and saw before them the barns and the farmyard. Bird-song was breaking out all round and the rooks were calling from high in the elms, but nothing - not even a sparrow - moved on the ground. Straight in front, on the other side of the farmyard, close to the house, stood the dog-kennel. The dog was not to be seen, but the rope, tied to the eye-bolt on the flat roof, trailed over the edge and disappeared across the straw-covered threshold.
'We're in time,' said Hazel. 'The brute's still asleep. Now Dandelion, you mustn't make any mistake. You lie in the grass just there, opposite the kennel. When the rope's gnawed through you'll see it fall. Unless the dog's ill or deaf, it'll be alert by then; probably before, I'm afraid, but that's my look-out. It's up to you to attract it and make it chase you all the way down to the road. You're very fast. Take care it doesn't lose you. Use the hedges if you want to: but remember it'll be trailing the rope. Get it down to Blackberry. That's all that matters.'
'If we ever meet again, Hazel-rah,' said Dandelion, as he took cover in the grass verge, 'we ought to have the makings of the best story ever.'
'And you'll be the chap to tell it,' said Hazel.
He moved away in a half-circle to the morning side and reached the wall of the farmhouse. Then he began to hop cautiously along the wall, in and out of the narrow flowerbed. His head was a tumult of smells - phlox in bloom, ashes, cow-dung, dog, cat, hens, stagnant water. He came to the back of the kennel, reeking of creosote and of rank straw. A half-used bale of straw stood against it - no doubt clean bedding which, in the dry weather, had not been put back under cover. Here at least was one piece of luck, for he had expected to have trouble in getting on the roof. He scrambled up the straw. Across part of the felted roof lay a torn piece of old blanket, wet with dew. Hazel sat up, sniffing, and put his fore-paws on it. It did not slip. He pulled himself up.
How much noise had he made? How strong was his scent over the tar and straw and farmyard? He waited, tense to jump, expecting movement below. There was no sound. In a terrible miasma of dog-smell, which gripped him with fear and called 'Run! Run!' down every nerve, he crept forward to where the eye-bolt was screwed into the roof. His claws scraped slightly and he stopped again. Still there was no movement. He crouched down and began to nibble and gnaw at the thick cord.
It was easier than he had thought it would be. It was a good deal easier than the cord on the punt, though about as thick. The punt-cord had been drenched through with rain, pliant, slippery and fibrous. This, though dewy on the outside, was dry-cored and light. In very little time the clean inside was showing. His chisel-like fore-teeth bit steadily and he felt the dry strands rip. The cord was as good as half through already.
At that moment he felt the heavy weight of the dog move beneath him. It stretched, shuddered and yawned. The rope moved a little and the straw rustled. The foul smell of it came strong, in a cloud.
'It doesn't matter if it hears me now,' thought Hazel. 'If only I can get the rope bitten through quickly, it doesn't matter. The dog'll go to Dandelion, if only I can be quick enough to make sure that the rope breaks when it begins to tug.'
He ripped at the cord again and sat back for a quick breath, looking across the track to where Dandelion was waiting. Then he froze and stared. A short distance behind Dandelion, in the grass, was the white-chested tabby, wide-eyed, tail-lashing, crouching. It had seen both himself and Dandelion. As he watched, it crept a length nearer. Dandelion was lying still, watching the front of the kennel intently, as he had been told. The cat tensed itself to spring.