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.
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."


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.


Blackberry buried his nose in the gravel under the
landward edge of the board and raised it, pushing. The
board tipped. Pipkin squealed and Fiver lowered his
head and splayed his claws.


Then the board righted itself and drifted out a few
feet into the pool with the two rabbits hunched upon it,
rigid and motionless. It rotated slowly and they found
themselves staring back at their comrades.