182 THE FACE OF THE FIELDS 



our cunning neighbor again, for what with the 

 foxes and the hunters, we were afraid it might 

 have fared ill with him. But here he was, with 

 four good legs under him; and after bagging 

 our skunk, we returned to pick up the hare's 

 trail, to try our luck once more. 



We brought him in long, leisurely leaps down 

 the ridge, out into our mowing field, and over to 

 the birches below the house. Here he had capered 

 about in the snow, had stood up on his haunches 

 and gnawed the bark from off a green oak sucker 

 two and a half feet from the ground. This, doubt- 

 less, was pretty near his length, stretched out — an 

 interesting item ; not exact to the inch, perhaps, 

 but close enough for us ; and much more fasci- 

 nating, guessed at by such a rule, than if measured 

 dead, with scientific accuracy. 



Nor was this all, for up the foot-path through 

 the birches came the marks of two dogs. They 

 joined the marks of the hare. And then, back 

 along the edge of the woods to the bushy ridge, 

 we saw a pretty race. 



It was all in our imaginations, all done for us 

 by those long-flinging footprints in the snow. 

 But we saw it all — the white hare, the yelling 



