Quite a moon went by before I recovered from Tom’s shot. At first I
thought that I was going to die, for, although luckily none of my bones
were broken, the pain in my back was dreadful. When I tried to ease the
agony by rubbing against roots it only became worse, for the fur fell
off, leaving sores upon which flies settled. I could scarcely eat or
sleep, and grew so thin that the bones nearly poked through my pelt.
Indeed I wanted very much to die, but could not. On the contrary, by
degrees I recovered, till at last I was quite strong again and like
other hares, except for the six little grey tufts upon my back and one
hole through my right ear.
Now all this while I had lived in the swamp near the sea, but when my
strength returned I thought of my old home, to which something seemed
to draw me. Also there were no turnips near the swamp, and as the
winter came on I found very little to eat there. So one day, or rather
one night, I travelled back home.
As it happened the first hare that I met near the big wood was my
sister. She was very glad to see me, although she had forgotten how we
came to part, and when I spoke of our father and mother these did not
seem to interest her. Still from that time forward we lived together
more or less till her end came.
One day—this was after we had made our home in the big wood, as hares
often do in winter—there was a great disturbance. When we tried to go
out to feed at daylight we found little fires burning everywhere, and
near to them boys who beat themselves and shouted. So we went back into
the wood, where the pheasants were running to and fro in a great state
of mind.
Some hours later, when the sun was quite high, men began to march about
and scores of shots were fired a long way off, also a wounded
cock-pheasant fell near to us and fluttered away, making a queer noise
in its throat. It looked very funny stumbling along on one leg with its
beak gaping and two of the long feathers in its tail broken.
“I know what this is,” I said to my sister. “Let’s be gone before they
shoot us. I’ve had enough of being shot.”
So off we went, rushing past a boy by his fire, who yelled and threw a
stick at us. But as it happened, on the borders of the property of the
Red-faced Man there were poachers who knew that hares would come out of
the wood on this day of the shooting and had made ready for us by
setting wire nooses in the gaps of the hedges through which we ran. I
got my foot into one of these but managed to shake it off. My sister
was not so lucky, for her head went into another of them. She kicked
and tore, but the more she struggled the tighter drew the noose.
I watched her for a little while until one of the poachers ran up with
a stick.
Then I went away, as I could not bear to see her beaten to death, and
that was the end of my sister. So now I was the only one left alive of
our family, except perhaps some younger brothers whom I did not know,
though I think it was one of these that afterwards I saw shot quite
dead by Giles. He went over and over and lay as still as though he had
never moved in all his life. Death seems a very wonderful thing,
Mahatma, but I won’t ask you what it is because I perceive that you
can’t answer.
After this nothing happened to me for a long while. Indeed I had the
best time of my life and grew very strong and big, yes, the strongest
and biggest hare of any that I ever saw, also the swiftest of foot.
Twice I was chased by dogs; once by Giles’s black beast, Nigger, and
once by that of a shepherd. Finding that I could run right away from
them without exerting myself at all, I grew to despise dogs. Ah! little
did I know then that there are many different breeds of these animals.
One day in mid-winter, as the weather was very mild and open, I was
lying on the rough grass field that I have spoken of which borders a
flat stretch of moorland. On this moorland in summer grew tall ferns,
but now these had died and been broken down by the wind. Suddenly I
woke up from my sleep to see a number of men walking and riding towards
me.
They were tenants and others who, although the real coursing season had
not yet begun in our neighbourhood, had been asked by Grampus to come
to try their greyhounds upon his land. Those of them who walked for the
most part held two long, lean dogs on a string, while one or two
carried dead hares. They were dreadful-looking hares that seemed to
have been bitten all over; at least their coats were wet and broken. I
shivered at the sight of them, feeling sure that I was going to be put
to some new kind of torture.
Besides the men on foot were those on horseback, among whom I
recognised the Red-faced Man and my enemy, the dreadful Tom. Most of
the others were people called farmers, who seemed very happy and
excited and from time to time drank something out of little bottles
which they passed to each other. Giles was not there. Now I know that
this was because he hated coursing, which killed down hares. Hares, he
thought, out to be shot, not coursed.
Whilst I watched, wondering what to do, there was a shout of “There she
goes!” and all the long dogs began to pull at their strings. Off the
necks of two of them the collars seemed to fall, and away they leapt
pursuing a hare. The men on the horses galloped after them, but the men
on foot remained where they were.
Now I was afraid to get up and run lest they should loose the other
dogs on me, so I lay still, till presently I saw the hare coming back
towards me, followed by the two dogs whose noses almost touched its
tail. It was exhausted and tried to twist and spring away to the right.
But as it did so one of the dogs caught it in its mouth and bit it till
it died.
“That was a rotten hare,” said Tom, who cantered up just then, “it gave
no course at all.”
“Yes,” puffed Grampus. “Hope the next one will show better sport.”
“Hope so too,” answered Tom, “especially as it is Jack and Jill’s turn
to be slipped, and they are the best greyhounds for twenty miles
round.”
Then the Red-faced Man gave some orders and Jack and Jill were brought
forward by the man whose business it was to slip the dogs. One of them
was black and one yellow; I think Jack was the black one—a dreadful,
sneaking-looking beast with a white tip to its tail, which ended in a
sort of curl.
“Forward now,” said Grampus, “and go slow. There’s sure to be another
puss or two in this rough grass.”
Next second I was up and away, and before you could count twelve Jack
and Jill were after me. I saw them standing on their hind legs
straining at the cord. Then the collars fell from them and they leapt
forward like the light. My thought was to get back to the wood, which
was about a minute’s run behind me, but I did not dare to turn and head
for it because of the long line of people through which I must pass if
I tried to do so. So I ran straight for the moorland, hoping to turn
there and reach the wood on its other side, although this meant a long
journey.
For a while all went well with me, and having a good start I began to
hope that I should outrun these beasts, as I had the shepherd’s dog and
the retriever. But I did not know Jack and Jill. Just as I reached the
borders of the moor I heard the patter of their feet behind me, and
looking back saw them coming up, about as far away as I was from Tom
when he shot me.
They were running quite close together and behind them galloped the
judge and other men. There was a fence here and I bolted through a hole
in it. The greyhounds jumped over and for a moment lost sight of me,
for I had turned and run down near the side of the fence. But Tom, who
had come through a gap, saw me and waved his arm shouting, and next
instant Jack and Jill saw me too.
Then as the going was rough by the fence I took to the open moor,
always trying, however, to work round to the left in the hope that I
might win the shelter of the wood.
On we went like the wind, and now Jack and Jill were quite close behind
me, though before they got there I had managed to circle so that at
last my head pointed to the wood, which was more than half a mile away.
Their speed was greater than mine, and I knew that I must soon be
caught.
At last they were not more than two yards behind, and for the first
time I twisted so that they overshot me, which gave me another start.
Three times they came up and three times I wrenched or twisted. The
wood was not so far away now, but I was almost spent.
What was I to do! What was I to do! I saw a clump of furze to the left,
a big clump and thick, and remembered that there was a hare’s run
through it. I reached it just as Jill was on the top of me, and once
more they lost sight of me for a while as they ran round the clump
staring and jumping. When they saw me again on the further side I was
thirty yards ahead of them and the wood was perhaps two hundred and
fifty yards away. But now I could only run more slowly, for my heart
seemed to be bursting, though luckily Jack and Jill were getting tired
also. Still they soon came up, and now I must twist every few yards, or
be caught in their jaws.
I can’t tell you what I felt, Mahatma, and until you have been hunted
by greyhounds you will never know. It was horrible. Yet I managed to
twist and jump so that always Jack and Jill just missed me. The farmers
on the horses laughed to see my desperate leaps and wrenches.
But Tom did worse than laugh. Noting that I was getting quite near the
wood, he rode between me and it, trying to turn me into the open, for
he wished to see me killed.
“Don’t do that! It isn’t sportsmanlike,” shouted the Red-faced Man.
“Give the poor beast a chance.”
I don’t know whether he obeyed or not, as just then I made my last
double, and felt Jill’s teeth cut through the fur of my scut and heard
them snap. I had dodged Jill, but Jack was right on to me and the wood
still twenty yards away.
I could not twist any more, it was just which of us could get there
first. I gathered all my remaining strength, for I was mad, mad with
terror, and bounded forward.
After me came Jack, I felt his hot breath on my flank. I jumped the
ditch, yes, I found power to jump that ditch where there was a rabbit
run just by the trunk of a young oak. Jack jumped after me; we must
both have been in the air at the same time. But I got through the
rabbit run, whereas Jack hit his sharp nose against the trunk of the
tree and broke his neck. Yes, he fell dead into the ditch.
I crawled on a few yards to a thick clump and squatted down, for I
could not stir another inch. So it came about that I heard them all
talking on the other side.
One of them said I was the finest hare he had ever coursed. Others, who
had dragged Jack out of the ditch, lamented his death, especially the
owner, who vowed that he was worth £50 and abused Tom. Tom, he said,
had caused him to be killed—I don’t know how, but I suppose because he
had ridden forward and tried to turn me. The Red-faced Man also scolded
Tom. Then he added—
“Well, I am glad she got off, for she’ll give us a good run with the
harriers one day. I shall always know that hare again by the white
marks on its back; also it is the biggest I have seen for a long while.
Come on, my friends, the dog is dead and there’s an end of it. At least
we have had a good morning’s sport, so let’s go to the Hall and get
some lunch.”
The Hare paused for a little, then looked up at me in its comical
fashion and asked—
“Did you ever course hares, Mahatma?”
“Not I, thank goodness,” I answered.
“Well, what do you think of coursing?”
“I would rather not say,” I replied.
“Then I will,” said the Hare, with conviction. “I think it horrible.”
“Yes, but, Hare, you do not remember the pleasure this sport gives to
the men and the dogs; you look at it from an entirely selfish point of
view.”
“And so would you, Mahatma, if you had felt Jack’s hot breath on your
back and Jill’s teeth in your tail.”