A FEAST 79 



closures he experienced no sense of strangeness : 

 the bushes on the hedges, the gates, the gaps 

 and the linhay in the field beyond the old 

 mine-heaps were the same as ever. He remem- 

 bered them all, even the hole in the wall of 

 the three-cornered enclosure ; and through this, 

 in the small hours, he squeezed his way to the 

 turnip-field that runs like a narrow promontory 

 into the waste. The sight of the turnips glad- 

 dened his eyes, for he had gleaned little on 

 the closely browsed grass-land and was very 

 hungry. 



He at once pared the rind from one of the 

 roots and began feasting on the succulent pulp. 

 The stars shone bright, the fleecy clouds moved 

 slowly, and the light wind scarcely breathed a 

 sigh on the open waste where some curlews 

 were whistling. The hare took no notice of 

 their calls, but at the startled cry of a plover 

 he at once sprang to the top of the wall, to 

 learn, if he could, what had disturbed it. He 

 scanned the face of the moor carefully without 

 seeing any sign of a marauder, so at length re- 

 turned to the half-eaten root and consumed it 

 without further interruption. 



The night was nearly gone before he with- 

 drew, not following the way he had come, but 

 leaping the wall and crossing the corner of 



