But though the household was astir no one seemed disposed to venture out, till at last Andrew, the farm-hind, lantern in hand, appeared, his feet sinking deep at every step as he made for the cattle-stalls under the barn. The flame lit up his corduroys, his homespun jacket, and beardless chin; it faintly illuminated the mud wall on which his shadow fell; it dispelled the pitchy darkness of the byre, where with loud lowings ox and bullock greeted his entry. He was soon busy chopping turnips, whose fragrance spread around till it reached the hare and set him longing; then the munching of the cattle almost drove him beyond endurance; but he remembered that he was an outlaw, so he turned a deaf ear to the tantalising sound, though he could not help envying the beasts which he had hitherto pitied. By this the farmyard was wide awake; the inmates of every shed and pen clamoured to be fed; the bull bellowed, the horse whinnied, the pigs squealed, the geese cackled, the rooster crowed at the top of his voice, whilst the linnets, finches, siskins, a yellow-hammer and a snow-bunting looked mutely on, hoping not to be forgotten. And so the hours of early morning passed, succeeded by a sunless forenoon and the dinner hour, during which the hare contemplated an act of unusual daring, nothing less than joining the three yearlings who were eating hay from a rack in the midst of the yard. After all, it did not seem a great thing to do. He had but to slip from the wall, steal a dozen yards or so over the snow, then the fodder would be his for the taking. Yet he could not do it; his wild nature restrained him. Once indeed he half rose, only, however, to settle down again and watch the yearlings empty the rack, which the man removed on returning from his dinner. As he carried it he chanced to look towards the hare, who, ever suspicious, feared that he was discovered. It was quite a critical moment to the wildling; had the man’s eyes met his, had the man only stopped whilst gazing in his direction, he would have made off: luckily, neither event befell, so that the hare, who had gathered himself ready to spring, relaxed his muscles and remained. The incident, however, left him somewhat disquieted, till a wren foraging in the elder diverted his thoughts; then he became composed and followed the movements of the man with the same unconcern as before.