EDUCATION
The low summons of the hare drew the leverets to her side, and when she
set out they followed close at her heels. Late as she was in starting,
she picked her way down the rough foothills very slowly and with extreme
caution; indeed, so halting was her advance, so mistrustful was she of
every rock and bush, that she might have been Fear herself leading her
offspring past ambuscades. But the moment she set foot on the reclaimed
land—the field where the linnet was roosting by her empty nest—she
quickened her steps and passed rapidly from enclosure to enclosure, the
novices wondering at the smoothness of the ground and shrinking from the
shadows cast by the gates under which they crept.
Soon the little band entered the grassy lane which led past the magpie’s
elder to the farmhouse, and there the leverets got a scare from some
fowls packed as close as they could sit on a limb of the solitary
sycamore. The birds mistook the hares for foxes, and in their panic
dislodged the rooster from his perch. The extraordinary noise he made,
as with a great flapping of wings he fell to the ground, frightened the
leverets almost out of their lives; in their terror they pressed so
close to their mother’s side that the three were for a moment jammed in
the gap by which they entered the neighbouring pasture. But the leverets
showed no fear of the kine that lay there chewing their cud, or of the
ewes and lambs in the next enclosure but one, passing in and out amongst
them as unconcernedly as if born and reared in their midst. In the
adjoining field the wanderers remained to feed on the abundant crop of
clover, which furnished so sumptuous a feast for the leverets after the
poor herbage of the green that they would have eaten to excess had not
their mother called them off. It was not that, however, which made her
lead them away, but her eagerness to show them the country and teach
them all she knew. Moreover, she was anxious to acquaint them with their
powers, especially with their ability to swim, for it would stand them
in good stead when pressed by enemies, as she knew by experience.
So, on leaving the clover, she made in the direction of the moorland
pool to which her mother had led her when young, where, owing to the
absence of all but the scantiest cover, no enemy could approach
unobserved. Annoyed at having to leave the clover, the leverets followed
with reluctance, till presently the stillness was broken by the music of
running water. At the sound the jack pricked his ears as though he
recognised a familiar voice. It was indeed the rill, but swollen now by
tributary runnels into a little stream three feet wide at the shallows
where the hares crossed. On the bridle-path leading to the hamlet of
Crowz-an-Wra the leverets raced up and down, whilst the hare sat on the
turfy border by an old cross and watched them. In the profound silence
the beating of their pads on the hard surface was loud enough to mask
the approach of a stealthy enemy; of this the leverets seemed fully
conscious, for they stood motionless at short intervals and listened.
Time after time the only sound that filled the pause was the subdued but
solemn roar of the sea about the cliffs of the Land’s End. Presently,
however, there broke upon it an ominous “patter, patter, patter.” In an
instant the timorous creatures were flying. Near a heap of stones they
stopped and listened with ears a-cock, and there again came that
“patter, patter, patter,” very faint at first but rapidly growing more
and more distinct. Whoever the pursuer, he was coming along at a rapid
pace. The rhythm of the footfall fascinated the hares. They stood with
eyes fixed on the track to get a view the moment the creature showed.
But all at once the noise ceased, to the obvious disquiet of the hare.
She snuffled and snorted as when in the presence of the weasel, and set
off again at a swinging pace with the leverets, now thoroughly alarmed,
obedient to her every movement. Suddenly she bounded from the path to
the selvedge of turf. On landing she leapt again and again. The leverets
followed as if tied to her, leaping nearly as far as she did, for
already they could cover nine feet in a spring. Then they sped over
croft and field till, quite a mile from the track, they came to a level
waste with the pool in its midst. She was about to lead them into the
water when she noticed the jack on his hind legs surveying the moor.
Stung by this reminder of her negligence, she leapt to the bank and
looked in the direction of the trail. She looked long, but saw no sign
of the pursuer, and then, completely satisfied that all was well,
rejoined the leverets, who followed her without shrinking towards the
middle of the pool.
It seemed as if the long-legged creatures would never get out of their
depth, yet they lost their foothold at last, fell to swimming, and soon
gained the opposite bank. In their wet coats they looked more leggy than
ever, but regained their usual appearance after shaking themselves a
time or two. Then the hare again scanned the almost bare surface and,
seeing nothing, gave up all thought of the enemy and devoted herself to
her young. Her eyes were all for them: she had not another glance for
her back trail.
Her lack of vigilance was the opportunity of the dog fox who had struck
their line in the clover-field and followed it to the moor, which he was
now scrutinising from the only rock that rose above it. He looked
everywhere but at the right spot. In his ignorance of a hare’s ways he
did not examine the pool, till a slight disturbance of the surface
arrested his wandering gaze: even then he thought that the ripples were
caused by wildfowl; but the moon emerged from the black cloud that had
obscured it, and revealed the three hares frisking in the shallows.
The fox licked his chops at the rare sight, and hopeless though he
thought the stalk, resolved to attempt it. Instantly he slipped from the
rock and stole forward, taking advantage of the meanest tuft to conceal
his approach. Yet for all his cleverness he was a conspicuous object,
and had the hare been alert she could not have failed to see him. Once,
indeed, she did seem uneasy, as if vaguely conscious of danger; the fox,
whose eyes never left her, was quick to see that, and when she looked
his way he was rigid in his stride and escaped observation. But
immediately she turned he resumed his advance, and soon it seemed he
might succeed in his murderous design. Noiseless as a phantom, he drew
nearer and nearer till, with ears flat and body crouching to the ground,
he reached the stunted rushes on the margin of the pool.
Now he was so near the hares that when they shook themselves the spray
all but reached him. Again and again with his cruel eyes he measured the
distance, and as often refrained from launching himself: he would not
spoil the stalk by a rash step, for at any moment the hares might
approach within reach of his spring, or they might re-enter the pool and
be at his mercy. And it looked as if his patience would be rewarded, for
in a second or two, seconds which seemed hours, the jack moved towards
him. Another yard and his fate would be sealed. But he stopped to
scratch one of his ears; and when he was about to advance again there
came from out the stillness a breath of wind laden with the foul scent
of the marauder. Quicker than thought the affrighted creature whipped
round and followed his mother and sister, who were already in full
retreat. As the leveret turned, the fox made a tremendous spring, but he
landed four feet short and could only make a frantic effort to overtake
it. For a score yards or so the chase was most exciting, neither gained
nor lost; but the terrific pace was beyond the power of the fox to
maintain, and as he fell behind the jack drew farther and farther away,
increasing his lead so much that presently reynard desisted from
pursuit. Panting he stood and watched, craning his neck to get a last
view as the conspicuous scuts disappeared from sight. Then, after a
glance at the sky, the disappointed hunter made back over the moor,
slowly at first but quickening his pace as he went, his neat footprints
commingling here and there in the soft ground with the nail-pricks of
the hares.
The hares, on discovering that the fox had given up pursuit, slackened
speed, and when they reached Brea Farm lingered awhile to feed before
withdrawing for the day. In the grey dawn they crossed the wall and made
their way towards the old chantry. Half-way to the summit the leverets,
apparently without a hint, separated first from the hare and then from
each other, and secreted themselves in seats where the sun would find
them early and where, weary after their long round, they soon passed
from drowsiness into a sound sleep.
The week that followed was singularly void of disquieting incidents;
nevertheless it was a period of great importance in the life of the
jack, because of the signs of independence that manifested themselves in
his conduct. Hitherto he had been tractable enough considering his sex;
under the influence of fear he had been a model of good behaviour; now
all was changed, suddenly changed. The night following his escape from
the fox, he stayed behind in the clover-field long after his mother had
gone on, and—a thing he had never done before—took no notice of her
repeated calls except to twitch his ears as if annoyed at her
persistency. Then the very next night he obstinately refused to leave
the wheatfield, though his mother shook with fright as she told him that
she had just seen a polecat looking out of a rabbit-hole in the hedge,
and that to stay might cost him his life. But she might as well have
besought the granite rubbing-post near them for all the heed the
self-willed creature gave; he simply went on nibbling. On both occasions
she had to come back and fetch him, and thoroughly did he deserve the
drumming he got.
He disliked being punished, but did not mend his ways. Indeed he grew
worse. A few nights later—it was Tuesday, because the Sennen men were
at bell-practice—his mother all at once missed him and, going back,
found him standing on his hind legs gazing at a scarecrow. The
beaver-hatted object had excited his curiosity, and he was waiting to
see it move. That was no great offence: before two hours had passed,
however, the incorrigible fellow gave her the slip, and by making use of
the “leaping” ruse she had taught him, prevented her from tracing him.
She gave him up for lost; but the truant was happy enough, roaming
amidst the barley or playing among the shadows cast by a stone-circle,
confident in his knowledge of the country and his ability to find his
way back to the hill. Yet he must have had misgivings or got scared, for
he returned to the Carn at a very early hour; and there his mother found
him looking sheepish enough after his spell of freedom. She had not
sought him in order to rebuke him, for she had given up both complaining
and correction; she had come solely to satisfy herself that he was safe.
In a way she rejoiced in his independence, knowing that the time was
fast approaching when he would have to fend for himself.
[Illustration: _To face p. 32._
AUTHOR’S SKETCH-MAP OF THE SCENE OF THE STORY.]
And because the moment of separation was imminent, she led him and his
sister that very night to the spot beloved above all others by the hares
of the Land’s End, the dunes of Sennen and the long strand of Whitesand
Bay. She took a bee-line from the Carn and, leading at a good pace, soon
reached her destination, where the leverets, pleased by the feel of the
sand under their pads, hopped and skipped like lambs, or like runners in
an arena with dunes for spectators and waves to applaud, galloped after
their fleet-footed mother with the speed of the wind. Their
disappearance into the gloom and sudden reappearance made them seem
quite uncanny on that uncanny foreshore, haunted, if tradition be true,
by drowned sailors who hail one another across the beach. The surge beat
on the shore, the swell boomed in the near caves, the breeze stirred the
rushes tufting the dunes: except for these the hares were alone; but the
light gleamed across the waters from the Longships, and near midnight
the faint sweep of muffled oars told where the Preventive Patrol crossed
the bay. The unusual noise caused the hares to cease their scamperings
and look seaward. Yet danger was not there but at the foot of the dunes,
where a half-wild cat crouched near the path by which they came and
eagerly awaited their return. All unconscious of her presence the hares
left the beach to play on the rocks at Genvor Head, now uncovered by the
tide; there the jack, prompted by the adventurous spirit that was ever
urging him to do “something grand,” made along the ledge towards the
point over which the sea was dashing dangerously. Luckily his mother
observed him and drove him back, despite the efforts he made to get past
her. So he turned sulky and lagged behind her and his sister when
presently they crossed the dunes for the feeding-ground. The cat, who
had been a close observer of the scene on the rocks, and was not a
little chagrined when two of the hares passed wide of her station, now
fixed her attention on the jack, as his slow movements made her think he
was wounded and might fall an easy prey. But again she was doomed to
disappointment; for while she debated whether to rush at the leveret or
stay where she was, the jack recovered his temper and went off at full
speed over the dunes.
Graymalkin naturally thought she had seen the last of him. Leaving her
hiding-place, she went and sat by the mouth of a rabbit-hole, to try to
secure one of the occupants when it came out. She might have been there
a quarter of an hour when to her surprise she saw the jack pass on his
way to the beach. He was making straight for the rocks. Without a
moment’s hesitation she followed, so quickly that when he reached the
point of the rocks, she had gained the shore end and cut off his
retreat. Yellow though she was, it is a wonder that he did not see her
as she crossed the sand, but he did not; what first drew his attention
was the mewing noise she made whilst creeping panther-like to the spot
where the rocks contract to a narrow waist which the hare must pass.
There she stopped. At sight of the hideous creature he realised the
straits he was in, and in his terror backed involuntarily nearer and
nearer to the edge; the sea as it surged over the rock reached half-way
up his legs, the spray drenched him, but he seemed indifferent to it
all. He looked thoroughly woebegone; he was surely doomed; if the sea
did not get him, the cat would. Presently he stopped backing when only
six inches from the edge and, pulling himself together, tried to think
of a way of escape. But he found it difficult to think under the eyes of
the brute crouching there. His best chance was to swim to Genvor Beach,
but this never entered his head; the bewildered fellow was debating as
best he could whether it was better to spring over the cat or dodge her.
Had it not been for the bunch of seaweed at the very spot on which he
would alight he would have tried the spring; but in the circumstances he
decided to risk all on the zigzag ruse, at which he was an adept, having
played it with his sister on the green. Like an arrow from a bow he shot
forward as if he meant to pass to the right of the cat; as soon as his
pads touched the rock, like lightning he swerved to the left; then he
shot ahead again and so got away without a scratch. The cat, thoroughly
outwitted, had sprung for the place where she had supposed the hare
would be; but she sprang at the air and fell into the sea. Almost
immediately a wave washed her on the rocks, and there she stood silent
while, with eyes like living coals, she watched the jack disappear over
the dunes.
The terrified fellow ran for two miles along his mother’s trail without
halting; then coming to some briers he stopped to nibble the shoots, for
he was very hungry. He would have stayed longer than he did had not the
rosy foreglow in the sky warned him to be off. So again he took to the
trail and hurried along at his best pace, scaring the boy at Brea Farm,
who took him for a pixie, as he whisked past the gap on his way to the
Fairies’ Green, where for an hour or more his mother and sister had been
sitting in their forms. The magpies saw him coming, but chattered no
reproach to the belated creature; though to a fox cub they would have
shown no mercy. After he had made his toilet, enjoying the taste of the
salt water, he sat moving his jaws as if he were chewing the cud. He was
really crushing some grains of sand, of which he had picked up a
mouthful on the beach, and the curious noise completely puzzled the
magpies, who tried in vain to locate it. The dew was being fast dried up
by the sun before it ceased: then the slow regular rise and fall of his
flank told he was asleep.
That night the hare took the jack and his sister a way they had not been
before. It led over Caer Bran to Boswarthen, where all three gambolled
like mad things in the corn before going down the hill to Tregonebris.
There, after feasting on the pinks in which the farmer’s wife took
special pride, they passed to the field of mowing-grass before the house
and played on the heap of earth in the far corner, the hare joining in
the frolics with a zest she had not shown since she led them up
Bartinney. By this time the air, which had been oppressively close, had
become more sultry than ever, till towards midnight the impending storm
broke, zigzagging the inky sky with fierce lightning. Immediately the
silence was rent by claps of thunder, and a torrent of rain followed
which drenched the hares before they could gain the shelter of the
hedge. When at length it ceased they galloped up and down the path
leading to the house and dried themselves; but they were drenched again
before dawn. They looked a forlorn little band as they ambled over the
fields in a downpour. Yet, miserable though their plight seemed, they
passed a clump of brambles which at least offered a partial refuge;
farther up the hill they passed another, more inviting still; indeed
they kept on as if regardless of all cover till they reached the summit
of Caer Bran, where they sought seats under the furze mantling the slope
of the outer of the earthworks that crown it. The wind blew, the rain
pelted, but the high bank and domed roof protected them from all
discomfort save that caused by the drippings of the sodden bushes. This
the creatures endured through the long day without once stirring in
their forms.
The hare rose at her usual time, but instead of setting out forthwith as
was her custom she went to where the jack lay and licked his face again
and again, which she had not done since he was weaned. What was the
meaning of this extraordinary display of affection? Was it to solace him
for the severity of her schooling and growing coldness? Not at all. It
was to mark the moment of separation; it was her last office to him; it
was her farewell greeting. The jack understood; his behaviour showed it.
For when presently his mother and sister set out, he, hitherto always
the second afoot, remained in the form and watched them pass from sight.
As the bushes hid them, he was on the point of rising to follow, but
restrained himself and sat listening as if in expectation of the call.
The low bleat for which he hearkened did not come; there was no sound
but the moan of the wind about the old earthworks. Then the seriousness
of the position came home to him: his mother and sister had gone out of
his life; the freedom for which he had been yearning was at last his.
Was he elated? Far from it. A sense of forlornness possessed him, but
this was soon to be banished by the high spirits that surged through him
and thrilled his whole being. Whilst he sat addressing himself to the
struggle before him the sky suddenly cleared, and where all had been
black, stars shone in the steadfast blue.
Then he arose, stretched his perfect limbs, and, after a glance along
the trail, set his face for the farm-lands to which his mother had the
previous night introduced him.