ig2 TEN YEARS OF GAME-KEEPING 



I found myself standing in a ride next to a 

 shooter who never fired a shot. Why, I could not 

 understand, for rabbits frequently were nipping 

 across the ride on each side of him. Thinking 

 he might be feeling ill, I ventured to inquire why 

 he did not shoot. 'Well/ he said, 'it isn't safe 

 to shoot at 'em in the ride, and when they are 

 in the stuff I can't see 'em. How can I shoot a 

 thing I can't see ?' I suggested that occasionally 

 he might get a glimpse of a rabbit's tail. He 

 thought he might. ' Then,' I said, 4 if you can 

 see a rabbit's tail, surely its head cannot be much 

 more than sixteen inches farther on.' The man 

 who waits for a full view of rabbits is not much 

 help to the bag. 



I confess that I have shot at a sitting rabbit, and 

 have missed it, but I never equalled the following 

 feat : A little rabbit born out of the usual season 

 appeared at a distance of not more than twenty-five 

 yards in a clearing where a tree had been felled. 

 Bang, bang ! The rabbit stopped and sat up. The 

 second gun was emptied. The rabbit took a couple 

 of hops, and sat on the stump of the tree. Yet a 

 fifth and sixth cartridge were emptied. The rabbit 

 never budged, but began grooming its face with its 

 two front-paws, and, I suspect, pressed its tongue 

 against the interior of its cheek. The loader handed 

 a gun with unperturbed solemnity, but the shooter 

 refused to persevere, protesting that already he had 



