It is when the binder is going on its last few rounds and only a
small patch of corn is left standing in the middle of the field that
excitement reaches its height. Hitherto no one has been allowed to
enter the standing corn; but now all sense of decency and restriction
is thrown to the winds, and the end is simply a mad scramble for the
rabbits that lurk to the last moment. Sharp eyes have followed the
movements of the rabbits by the slight swaying to and fro of the ears
of the corn; but now the corn is alive with rabbits, and among them are
hurled the frenzied bodies of men, women, and children, who hit wildly
and blindly with their sticks. Sticks and stones rain on rabbits, corn,
and men. And on the edge of the fray stands the quiet figure of the man
who will not exert himself, who watches for the few rabbits who come
alive from the corn. One other quiet and calm figure is in the heart of
the turmoil--the gamekeeper, who bestirs himself only in the interests
of game. With ever-watchful eye and warning voice he sternly represses
those who, overcome by the lust of killing, would recklessly slaughter,
besides rabbits, the young pheasants or the crouching leverets. Great
is the relief of the keeper when the last corn is cut and the harvest
festival of the countryman is over for the year.
* * * * *