"I don't want to jump in there," said Speedwell.

"Why not just go along the bank?" asked Hawkbit.

Hazel suspected that if Fiver felt they ought to cross the river, it might be dangerous not to. But how were the others to be persuaded? At this moment, as he was still wondering what to say to them, he suddenly realized that something had lightened his spirits. What could it be? A smell? A sound? Then he knew. Nearby, across the river, a lark had begun to twitter and climb. It was morning. A blackbird called one or two deep, slow notes and was followed by a wood pigeon. Soon they were in a gray twilight and could see that the stream bordered the further edge of the wood. On the other side lay open fields.

The top of the sandy bank was a good six feet above the water. From where they sat, the rabbits could look straight ahead upstream, and downstream to their left. Evidently there were nesting holes in the sheer face below them, for as the light grew they saw three or four martins dart out over the stream and away into the fields beyond. In a short time one returned with his beak full, and they could hear the nestlings squeaking as he flew out of sight beneath their feet. The bank did not extend far in either direction. Upstream, it sloped down to a grassy path between the trees and the water. This followed the line of the river, which ran straight from almost as far away as they could see, flowing smoothly without fords, gravel shallows or plank bridges. Immediately below them lay a wide pool and here the water was almost still. Away to their left, the bank sloped down again into clumps of alder, among which the stream could be heard chattering over gravel. There was a glimpse of barbed wire stretched across the water and they guessed that this must surround a cattle wade, like the one in the little brook near the home warren.

Hazel looked at the path upstream. "There's grass down there," he said. "Let's go and feed."

They scrambled down the bank and set to nibbling beside the water. Between them and the stream itself stood half-grown clumps of purple loosestrife and fleabane, which would not flower for nearly two months yet. The only blooms were a few early meadowsweet and a patch of pink butterbur. Looking back at the face of the bank, they could see that it was in fact dotted thickly with martins' holes. There was a narrow foreshore at the foot of the little cliff and this was littered with the rubbish of the colony-sticks, droppings, feathers, a broken egg and a dead nestling or two. The martins were now coming and going in numbers over the water.

Hazel moved close to Fiver and quietly edged him away from the others, feeding as he went. When they were a little way off, and half concealed by a patch of reeds, he said, "Are you sure we've got to cross the river, Fiver? What about going along the bank one way or the other?"

"No, we need to cross the river, Hazel, so that we can get into those fields-and on beyond them too. I know what we ought to be looking for-a high, lonely place with dry soil, where rabbits can see and hear all round and men hardly ever come. Wouldn't that be worth a journey?"

"Yes, of course it would. But is there such a place?"

"Not near a river-I needn't tell you that. But if you cross a river you start going up again, don't you? We ought to be on the top-on the top and in the open."

"But, Fiver, I think they may refuse to go much further. And then again, you say all this and yet you say you're too tired to swim?"

"I can rest, Hazel, but Pipkin's in a pretty bad way. I think he's injured. We may have to stay here half the day."

"Well, let's go and talk to the others. They may not mind staying. It's crossing they're not going to fancy, unless something frightens them into it."

As soon as they had made their way back, Bigwig came across to them from the bushes at the edge of the path.

"I was wondering where you'd got to," he said to Hazel. "Are you ready to move on?"

"No, I'm not," answered Hazel firmly. "I think we ought to stay here until ni-Frith. That'll give everyone a chance to rest and then we can swim across to those fields."

Bigwig was about to reply, but Blackberry spoke first.

"Bigwig," he said, "why don't you swim over now, and then go out into the field and have a look round? The wood may not stretch very far one way or the other. You could see from there; and then we might know which would be the best way to go."

"Oh, well," said Bigwig rather grudgingly, "I suppose there's some sense in that. I'll swim the embleer[4] river as many times as you like. Always glad to oblige."

Without the slightest hesitation, he took two hops to the water, waded in and swam across the deep, still pool. They watched him pull himself out beside a flowering clump of figwort, gripping one of the tough stems in his teeth, shake a shower of drops out of his fur and scutter into the alder bushes. A moment later, between the nut trees, they saw him running off into the field.

"I'm glad he's with us," said Hazel to Silver. Again he thought wryly of the Threarah. "He's the fellow to find out all we need to know. Oh, I say, look, he's coming back already."

Bigwig was racing back across the field, looking more agitated than he had at any time since the encounter with Captain Holly. He ran into the water almost headlong and paddled over fast, leaving an arrowhead ripple on the calm brown surface. He was speaking as he jerked himself out on the sandy foreshore.

"Well, Hazel, if I were you I shouldn't wait until ni-Frith. I should go now. In fact, I think you'll have to."

"Why?" asked Hazel.

"There's a large dog loose in the wood."

Hazel started. "What?" he said. "How do you know?"

"When you get into the field you can see the wood sloping down to the river. Parts of it are open. I saw the dog crossing a clearing. It was trailing a chain, so it must have broken loose. It may be on the lendri's scent, but the lendri will be underground by now. What do you think will happen when it picks up our scent, running from one side of the wood to the other, with dew on it? Come on, let's get over quickly,"

Hazel felt at a loss. In front of him stood Bigwig, sodden wet, undaunted, single-minded-the very picture of decision. At his shoulder was Fiver, silent and twitching. He saw Blackberry watching him intently, waiting for his lead and disregarding Bigwig's. Then he looked at Pipkin, huddled into a fold of sand, more panic-stricken and helpless than any rabbit he had ever seen. At this moment, up in the wood, there broke out an excited yelping and a jay began to scold.

Hazel spoke through a kind of light-headed trance. "Well, you'd better get on, then," he said, "and anyone else who wants to. Personally, I'm going to wait until Fiver and Pipkin are fit to tackle it."

"You silly blockhead!" cried Bigwig. "We'll all be finished! We'll-"

"Don't stamp about," said Hazel, "You may be heard. What do you suggest, then?"

"Suggest? There's no suggesting to be done. Those who can swim, swim. The others will have to stay here and hope for the best. The dog may not come."

"I'm afraid that won't do for me. I got Pipkin into this and I'm going to get him out."

"Well, you didn't get Fiver into it, did you? He got you into it."

Hazel could not help noticing, with reluctant admiration, that although Bigwig had lost his temper, he was apparently in no hurry on his own account and seemed less frightened than any of them. Looking round for Blackberry, he saw that he had left them and was up at the top of the pool, where the narrow beach tailed away into a gravel spit. His paws were half buried in the wet gravel and he was nosing at something large and flat on the waterline. It looked like a piece of wood.