CHAPTER V
A DELUSIVE REFUGE
The night after that terrible chase the hare made his way back to the farm; but there he met only fresh troubles. First he was driven from Johanna’s Garden by a man cutting the hedge, and compelled to slink away in a blaze of sunshine, which was torture to him; next, when sitting in the clover he was pestered by a yearling, that kept rubbing him with her nose. Despite the buffeting he gave her, she annoyed him so much that in the end he had no choice but to get up and steal away to the cabbage-pile. A week later he was driven from this retreat by old Betty, who came and cut the very cabbage that sheltered him. Thereupon he returned to the seat on the hedge, and continued to use it until one morning he found a weasel curled up there. Then he forsook it for good.
That night, when considering where he should pass the coming day, his thoughts, as always in time of worry, turned to the hill, and at the approach of dawn, instead of heading for the farm, he set his face for Chapel Carn Brea. He was quite elated at the prospect of returning to the familiar upland; he even made up his mind where to sit; yet all came to nothing, for when he was a mile on the way another retreat won his favour and turned him from his purpose.
As he skirted the large pool on the Land’s End moor his ever alert eyes fell on the tiny island in its midst; immediately there flashed on his mind an idea of the immunity from molestation such a retreat would afford. There, with the water around him, he felt that he would be safer than anywhere else; that neither fox nor cat, polecat nor weasel, would disturb him, nor man intrude; in short, that the islet offered the sanctuary he had often longed for and hitherto sought in vain. But there was one disadvantage, and a most serious one—the apparent impossibility of reaching the island without swimming. He knew from his experience at the mill-pool that no amount of shaking could dry a wet coat sufficiently to make sitting in it endurable for a whole day; and because of this he was on the point of abandoning the project and continuing his way, when, on second thoughts, prompted by the low state of the water, he decided to try whether he could reach the island by wading.
After looking round to see that he was not observed, he entered the pool and made straight for a rock where he meant to land before attempting to gain his goal, which lay just beyond it. But the water was soon so deep that at every step he dreaded finding himself out of his depth. Nevertheless, he was able to keep touch of the bottom until within some ten yards of the rock: there suddenly he had to rear on his hind legs to prevent his shoulders from being submerged. Most hares in this situation would have wheeled round and made for shore; but the jack was not so easily thwarted. A difficult situation called forth his resource: before you could count three, so quick was he to act, he was advancing on his hind legs over the rough bed, and he actually succeeded in gaining the rock without wetting more than a few inches of his coat. He stood a moment on the rock to shake the water from his chest and belly, then examined the strait between him and the island. It was far too deep to bottom, apparently far too wide to cross by a standing leap. But he meant to try. The worst that could befall him was a good drenching and the consequent abandonment of his plan. Twice he gathered himself to spring; as often he drew back; he was not satisfied with the hold of his front feet. A third time he gathered his strong hind limbs well under him, got a firm grip of the rock with his fore pads, launched himself with all the force he was capable of, and landed high and dry with a few inches to spare. After surveying his refuge, he leapt to the spot he had selected for his seat, and squatting close to the ground with his ears pressed close on his back, was indistinguishable from his surroundings.
The sudden disappearance of the animal which an instant before had been so very conspicuous was little short of magical; even when the sun rose it was difficult to pick him out, so happily did his colouring blend with the russet of the fern and the gold and grey of the lichens. One thing alone betrayed him, his eyes: they were wide open, maintaining their unbroken watch. For months they had kept vigil on cornfield, pasturage, and the enclosing hedges; now they scanned a waste of sullen mere and barren moor without sign of life save a wheatear flitting from stack to stack of the turf that dotted the heathery ground.
A harmless intruder was this frail bird; equally harmless the seagulls which came almost daily to drink and bathe and preen their plumage. At times the islet was ringed with their elegant forms: they might have been taken for the bodyguard of the hare, if there had been anything to suggest danger.
Dawn after dawn the hare stole back to his island retreat, where after awhile he began to throw aside his ordinary precautions and to relax his vigilance, passing the day in careless content. One noon he even grew so reckless as to abandon his usual wakeful position and rest on his side, with head and ears erect, his hind legs stretched out to their full length, and the white underfur exposed in a way that would have betrayed him to any prying eyes. The following day, soothed by the hot sun and the ripple against the bank, he actually fell so soundly asleep as to be insensible to his surroundings.
Alas, he was soon to be rudely apprised of the insecurity of his refuge, which was in fact an ancient holt of the otters that visited the pool. The awakening came on the nineteenth day in this wise. He was just back in the form casting his restless eyes about him as usual, when he saw something rise to the surface of the mere and almost instantly sink from view. The grey light and a mist prevented him from seeing clearly; yet he knew that it was an otter. At once he became alarmed for his safety, because he felt almost sure that the intruder would seek the island to couch on.