There was a small rabbit in our woods who might have congratulated
himself on two wonderful escapes from death. We first made his
acquaintance in a quiet by-lane, and just in time to drive away a stoat
that was loping swiftly along on his trail. A little rabbit is pathetic
in fear, and instinctively one is angered against the stoat which would
take its life--though the stoat's teeth represent the natural weapon
of rabbit destruction. The rabbit fled on his way--directly towards
a motor-car coming at speed round a corner. He darted to one side,
escaping the wheels by the fur of his tail, then foolishly turned
across the road, and again escaped the wheels by a miracle. We wondered
whether the fate thus avoided would have been easier than the one
delayed--no doubt soon after the stoat's teeth bit home in the tender
neck.
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