70 THE SPRING OF THE YEAR 



v f ' f I have seen him leap for his life as the dog sighted \ 

 him, and, bounding like a ball across the stubble, 

 disappear in the woods, the hound within two jumps 

 of his flashing tail. I have waited at the end of the. 

 wood-road for the runners to come back, down theV 

 home-stretch, for the finish. On they go through 

 the woods, for a quarter, or perhaps a half a mile, 

 the baying of the hound faint and intermittent 

 in the distance, then quite lost. No, there it is again, 

 louder now. They have turned the course. 



I wait. 



The quiet life of the woods is undisturbed ; for 

 the voice of the hound is only an echo, not unlike 

 the far-off tolling of a slow-swinging bell. The 

 leaves stir as a wood mouse scurries from his stump ; 

 an acorn rattles down ; then in the winding wood- ; -JU^ 

 road I hear the pit-pat, pit-pat, of soft furry feet, ) ; 

 and there at the bend is the rabbit. He stops, rises 

 high up on his haunches, and listens. He drops again , 

 upon all fours, scratches himself behind the ear,cjjfc^ 

 reaches over the cart-rut for a nip of sassafras, hops 

 a little nearer, and throws his big ears forward in ' 

 quick alarm, for he sees me, and, as if something 

 had exploded under him, he kicks into the air and 

 is off, leaving a pretty tangle for the dog to un- 

 ravel, later on, by this mighty jump to the side. 



My children and a woodchopper were witnesses re- 

 cently of an exciting, and, for this section of Mas- \ 

 sachusetts, a novel race, which, but for them, must 



. 



