3 o8 GUN, RIFLE, AND HOUND. 



leaves, a certain indication of nightfall. Before his 

 sentence he had always been running between the 

 keeper's legs. Now he seemed to have entirely 

 disappeared. Still, I was willing to have one more 

 try. Half an hour before dark I reached the wood. 

 The wechsel, or well-trodden game-path, runs between 

 the stems of some thirty-year-old firs. First wetting 

 my finger to ascertain the direction of the wind, I 

 plant my seat between two big trees and a beech 

 bush. I then turn up my collar, put on gloves, and 

 sit down. When one green branch is bent aside to 

 form a loop-hole my shelter is complete. It is very 

 quiet in the wood to-night. Some jays fly into the 

 trees above, and disturb the silence by dropping 

 branches or fir-cones. Then they are still. 



An old hare comes running out of the fir-wood. 

 On these occasions their pace is quite different from 

 their usual hopping gait. This one passes me within 

 six or seven feet, sits up a bit, and then goes on into 

 the beech covert. The wood-hares, as Jefferies named 

 them, never leave the woods, but seek their food on 

 the grassy forest roads, and later on in the bramble 

 bushes. 



It is getting dark now ; in five minutes it will be too 

 late to see the ivory-tipped foresight. 



Hark ! two or three warning clucks from a black- 

 bird over on the opposite slope. Something is moving 

 in the wood. Presently the noisy bird scurries off 

 with a shriek, and a woodpigeon flaps heavily out 

 from one of the outer firs. I pull my cap low down 

 over my eyes so that the last glint of daylight shall 



