The Story of a HareTregarthen, J. C. (John Coulson)
General
The Story of a Hare
Tregarthen, J. C. (John Coulson)
Hares -- Fiction
But though he revelled in the exercise of his unencumbered limbs, he had
a keen eye to his safety: the most wily of hunted creatures could not
have been more alert and vigilant than he. Once from the solitary rock,
again and again from knoll and barrow he surveyed the waste to learn
whether any enemies were in sight, for he was well aware of their
famished condition, and understood that they would employ the greatest
stealth in attempting his capture. He kept a sharp look-out for Grey
Fox, carefully examining every object that excited his least suspicion,
and in his great dread of a stoat pack he repeatedly scrutinised the
surface for the sinuous living line that would apprise him of its
approach.
Once he thought he detected the eerie serpentine movement characteristic
of the stoat; but he was mistaken, the three packs which infested his
beats were miles away at the time. Though all were terrible scourges to
the animals that supplied them with blood, the most formidable, on
account of the sagacity and endurance of its leader, was the pack,
numbering fourteen in all, whose main stronghold was the Lamorna cliffs.
Even this pack was in peril of famine because of the wariness and
scarcity of prey.
In their straits they invaded the homesteads, and on the fourth day of
the thaw, when the ice in the pools was the last vestige of the frost,
the starving brutes came pouring over the wall of Brea farmyard and made
straight for the poultry-houses.
Some sought the door of the fowls’ house, causing the rooster to shift
uneasily on his perch; the rest circled the ducks’ house without finding
a way in, for Andrew had stopped the holes in the floor to which they
penetrated.
Thus baulked they entered the cattle-sheds and barn, where in the dead
silence they could be heard rustling among the straw. Presently a rat
appeared on the roof and climbed to the old weather-cock on the roof of
the pigeon-cote. Two stoats followed, but failed to trace him to the
forlorn refuge whence he was watching them.
Half an hour passed thus in profitless search before the leader,
standing in the middle of the yard, uttered a shrill cry. This rallied
the band to her, and the yard at once seemed alive with the restless
creatures darting hither and thither in their impatience to be gone.
[Illustration: _Douglas English._, _To face p. 162._
A STOAT.]
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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