"Afternoon, Algy," said I. "Been spending a strenuous morn carrying the old man's respirator--with his lunch inside?" For answer Algy tipped me backwards off the log, and sitting down in my place, contemplated our hounds for some seconds. "And are these the notorious Hare-'em Scare-'ems?" he inquired. I nodded. "Yessir; absolutely the one and only pack of harriers operating in the war zone. Guaranteed gun-broke, shell-shocked, shrapnel-pitted and bullet-bitten." Algy sniffed. "What's that big brute over in the corner, he of the crumpled face and barbed smile? Looks like a bloodhound." "Is a bloodhound," said Albert Edward. "If you don't believe me step inside and behave like raw rump steak for a moment." Algy pointed his cane. "And that creature industriously delousing itself? That's a wolf, of course?" "Its wolfery is only skin-deep," said I. "A grey gander all but annihilated it yesterday. In my opinion it's a sheep in wolf's clothing." Algy wagged his cane, indicating the remaining two couples. "And these? What breed would you call them?" Albert Edward grunted. "You could call them any breed you like and be partly right. We've named them 'The Maconochies,' which, being interpreted, meaneth a little of everything." "And how many hares have you killed?" Algy inquired. "We haven't exactly killed any as yet," said I, "but we've put the breeze up 'em; their _moral_ is very low." "Well, my bold Nimrods," said Algy, "I'm sorry to say the game is up." "What do you mean by 'game'?" objected Albert Edward. "I've told you before that this is a serious attempt to avert a plague of rodents. Why, in Australia I've seen----" Algy held up his hand. "I know, I know. But some people who have not enjoyed your harrowing Colonial experience are a trifle sceptical. Listen. Last evening, as I was driving home with the old man through Vaux-le-Tour, whom should I see but you two sportsmen out on the hillside riding down a hare, followed at some distance by three mounted bargees----" "The Padre, the Field Cashier and O.C. Bugs," Albert Edward explained. "We're making men of 'em. Go on." --"followed at a still greater distance," continued Algy, "by a raging band of mongrels. By the way, don't you get your hunt the wrong way round, the cart before the horse, so to speak? I always thought it customary for the hounds to go first." "In some cases the hare wouldn't know it was being hunted if they did," said I. "This is one of them. Forge ahead." "Well, so far so good; the old gent was drowsing in his corner and there was no harm done." "So you gave him a dig in the ribs, I suppose, and bleated, 'Oh, look at naughty boys chasing ickle bunny wabbit!'" sneered Albert Edward.