The Mahatma and the Hare: A Dream StoryHaggard, H. Rider (Henry Rider)
Science
The Mahatma and the Hare: A Dream Story
Haggard, H. Rider (Henry Rider)
Adventure stories; Fantasy fiction
This silly dog had thrust its head up the hole over a fire such as the
stops make outside the coverts when men are going to shoot, either to
hide something or to look for me there. When it came down again because
the Red-faced Man kicked it, the dog put its paws into the fire and
pulled it all out over the floor. Also it howled very beautifully. Just
then another hound, that one which generally led the pack, began to
sniff about near me and finally poked its nose under the stuff which
hid me.
It jumped back and bayed, whereon I jumped out the other side. Tom made
a rush at me and knocked the fat woman off the thing she was standing
on, so that she fell among the dogs, which covered her up and began to
sniff her all over. Flying from Tom I found myself in front of
something filmy, beyond which I saw grass. It looked suspicious, but as
nothing in the world could be so bad as Tom, no, not even his dogs, I
jumped at it.
There was a crash and a sharp point cut my nose, but I was out upon the
grass. Then there were twenty other crashes, and all the hounds were
out too, for Tom had cheered them on. I ran to the edge of the lawn and
saw a steep slope leading to the sands and the sea. Now I knew what the
sea was, for after Tom had shot me in the back I lived by it for a long
while, and once swam across a little creek to get to my form, from
which it cut me off.
While I ran down that slope fast as my aching legs would carry me, I
made up my mind that I would swim out into the sea and drown there,
since it is better to drown than to be torn to pieces. “But why are you
laughing, friend Mahatma.”
“I am not laughing,” I said. “In this state, without a body, I have
nothing to laugh with. Still you are right, for you see that I should
be laughing if I could. Your story of the stout lady and the dogs and
the china is very amusing.”
“Perhaps, friend, but it did not amuse me. Nothing is amusing when one
is going to be eaten alive.”
“Of course it isn’t,” I answered. “Please forgive me and go on.”
“Well, I tumbled down that cliff, followed by some of the dogs and Tom
and the girl Ella and the huntsman Jerry on foot, and dragged myself
across the sands till I came to the lip of the sea.”
Just here there was a boat and by it stood Giles the keeper. He had
come there to get out of the way of the hunting, which he hated as much
as he did the coursing. The sight of him settled me—into the sea I
went. The dogs wanted to follow me, but Jerry called and whipped them
off.
“I won’t have them caught in the current and drowned,” he said. “Let
the flea-bitten old devil go, she’s brought trouble enough already.”
“Help me shove off the boat, Giles,” shouted Tom. “She shan’t beat us;
we must have her for the hounds. Come on, Ella.”
“Best leave her alone, Master Tom,” said Giles. “I think she’s an
unlucky one, that I do.”
Still the end of it was that he helped to float the little boat and got
into it with Tom and Ella.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
Reviews
Reviews
No reviews yet
Be the first to share your thoughts on this work.
Join the Discussion
Join the discussion
Sign in to leave a comment or review.
Sign InorCreate an account