iSo HUNTING THE HARE 



little weak. The huntsman is nearest (and all praise 

 to him, as hounds have run hard for forty minutes !) ; 

 he has pulled up to a walk, for the clay land clings to 

 each boot with a tenacity which renders even walking 

 a wearisome struggle. He knows well that the 

 moment is critical, as there are probably fresh hares 

 lying in the field ; that scent may so far fail as to 

 compel him to make a cast ; and that this will certainly 

 increase the already imminent danger of a change. 

 He is just stopping, in order to keep well away from his 

 hounds, when he almost treads on a fresli hare which 

 gets up under his feet. She heads straight for the 

 pack, but our huntsman stands still as death ; puss, 

 seeing hounds, swerves away without their catching a 

 view, and the danger of a change is for the moment 

 past. But our huntsman's eyes are at work, and he 

 presently observes a dark form stealing away about 

 a hundred yards in front of the pack. He looks 

 again, makes eure that it is his hare, and then, 

 blowing his horn, has his hounds to him in a trice, 

 while he gamely struggles through the clay at the 

 best pace he can muster towards the spot where the 

 hunted hare has disappeared over a brow, her arched 

 back betraying her distressed condition, so that if 

 only hounds can get a view they must kill her. 



The game is well-nigh won ; but unfortunately 



