Before he knew what he was doing, Hazel stamped on the hollow roof. Twice he stamped and then turned to leap to the ground and run. Dandelion, reacting instantly, shot out of the grass to the open gravel. In the same moment, the cat jumped and landed exactly where he had been lying. The dog gave two quick, sharp barks and rushed out of the kennel. It saw Dandelion at once and ran to the full extent of the rope. The rope went taut, held for an instant and then parted at the point where Hazel had gnawed it to a thread. The kennel jerked forward, tilted, fell back and struck the ground with a jolt. Hazel, already off balance, clawed at the blanket, missed his footing and fell over the edge. He landed heavily on his weak leg and lay kicking. The dog was gone.
Hazel stopped kicking and lay still. There was a spurt of pain along his haunch but he knew that he could move. He remembered the raised floor of the barn across the farmyard. He could limp the short distance, get under the floor and then make his way to the ditch. He raised himself on his fore-legs.
On the instant he was knocked sideways and felt himself pressed down. There was a light but sharp pricking beneath the fur across his back. He lashed out with his hind legs but struck nothing. He turned his head. The cat was on him, crouched half across his body. Its whiskers brushed his ear. Its great, green eyes, the pupils contracted to vertical, black slits in the sunshine, were staring into his own.
'Can you run?' hissed the cat. 'I think not.'
46. Bigwig Stands his Ground
Hard pounding this, gentlemen. Let's see who will pound longest.
The Duke of Wellington (at Waterloo)
Groundsel scrambled up the steep slope of the shaft and rejoined Woundwort in the pit at the top.
'There's nothing left to dig, sir,' he said. 'The bottom will fall in if anyone goes down there now.'
'Can you make out what's below?' asked Woundwort. 'Is it a run or a burrow we shall be into?'
'I'm fairly sure it's a burrow, sir,' answered Groundsel. 'In fact, it feels to me as though there's an unusually big space underneath.'
'How many rabbits are in it, do you think?'
'I couldn't hear any at all. But they may be keeping quiet and waiting to attack us when we break in.'
'They haven't done much attacking up to now,' said Woundwort. 'A poor lot, I'd say - skulking underground, and some of them running away in the night. I don't fancy we'll have much trouble.'
'Unless, sir -' said Groundsel.
Woundwort looked at him and waited.
'Unless the - the animal attacks us, sir,' said Groundsel. 'Whatever it is. It's not like Ragwort to imagine anything. He's very stolid. I'm only trying to think ahead,' he added, as Woundwort still said nothing.
'Well,' said Woundwort at last, 'if there is an animal, it'll find out that I'm an animal too.' He came out on the bank, where Campion and Vervain were waiting with a number of the other rabbits.
'We've done all the hard work now,' he said. 'We'll be able to take our does home as soon as we've finished down below. The way we'll go about it is this. I'm going to break the bottom of the hole in and go straight down into the burrow underneath. I want only three others to follow, otherwise there'll be complete confusion and we shall all be fighting each other. Vervain, you come behind me and bring two more. If there's any trouble we'll deal with it. Groundsel, you follow. But you're to stay in the shaft, understand? Don't jump down until I tell you. When we know where we are and what we're doing, you can bring a few more in.'
There was not a rabbit in the Owsla but had confidence in Woundwort. As they heard him preparing to go first into the depths of the enemy warren as calmly as though he were looking for dandelions, his officers' spirits rose. It seemed to them quite likely that the place would be given up without any fighting at all. When the General had led the final assault at Nutley Copse he had killed three rabbits underground and no more had dared to oppose him, although there had been some hard tussles in the outer runs the day before.
'Very well,' said Woundwort. 'Now, I don't want anyone straying away. Campion, you see to that. As soon as we get one of the blocked runs opened from inside you can fill the place up. Keep them together here till I let you know and then send them in fast.'
'Best of luck, sir,' said Campion.
Woundwort jumped into the pit, flattened his ears and went down the shaft. He had already decided that he was not going to stop to listen. There was no point, since he meant to break in at once whether there was anything to be heard or not. It was more important that he should not seem to hesitate or cause Vervain to do so; and that the enemy, if they were there, should have the shortest possible time in which to hear him coming. Below, there would be either a run or a burrow. Either he would have to fight immediately or else there would first be a chance to look round and sense where he was. It did not matter. What mattered was finding rabbits and killing them.
He came to the bottom of the shaft. As Groundsel had said, it was plainly thin - brittle as ice on a puddle - chalk, pebbles and light soil. Woundwort scored it across with his fore-claws. Slightly damp, it held a moment and then fell inwards, crumbling. As it fell, Woundwort followed it.
He fell about the length of his own body - far enough to tell him that he was in a burrow. As he landed he kicked out with his hind legs and then dashed forward, partly to be out of Vervain's way as he followed and partly to reach the wall and face about before he could be attacked from behind. He found himself against a pile of soft earth - evidently the end of a blocked run leading out of the burrow - and turned. A moment later Vervain was beside him. The third rabbit, whoever he was, seemed to be in difficulties. They could both hear him scrabbling in the fallen soil.
'Over here,' said Woundwort sharply.
The rabbit, a powerful, heavy veteran by the name of Thunder, joined them, stumbling.
'What's the matter?' asked Woundwort.
'Nothing, sir,' answered Thunder, 'only there's a dead rabbit on the floor and it startled me for a moment.'
'A dead rabbit?' said Woundwort. 'Are you sure he's dead? Where is he?'