THE SHOOTING
I was quite close by one morning when the fox, who was smelling aboutafter me, I suppose because it had liked my brother so much, got caughtin the big trap which was covered over artfully with earth and baitedwith some stuff which stank horribly. I remember it looked very like myown hind-legs. The fox, not being able to find me, went to this filthand tried to eat it.
Then suddenly there was a dreadful fuss. The fox yelped and flew intothe air. I saw that a great black thing was fast on its forepaw. Howthat fox did jump and roll! It was quite wonderful to see her. Shelooked like a great yellow ball, except for a lot of white marks aboutthe head, which were her teeth. But the trap would not come away,because it was tied to a root with a chain.
At last the fox grew tired and, lying down, began to think, licking itspaw as it thought and making a kind of moaning noise. Next it commencedgnawing at the root after trying the chain and finding that its teethwould not go into it. While it was doing this I heard the sound of a mansomewhere in the wood. So did the fox, and oh! it looked so frightened.It lay down panting, its tongue hanging out and its ears pressed backagainst its head, and whisked its big tail from side to side. Then itbegan to gnaw again, but this time at its own leg. It wanted to bite itoff and so get away. I thought this very brave of the fox, and thoughI hated it because it had eaten my brother and tried to eat me, I feltquite sorry.
It was about half through its leg when the man came. I remember that hehad a cat with a little red collar on its neck, and an owl in his hand,both of them dead, for he was Giles, the head-keeper, going round histraps. He was a tall man with sandy whiskers and a rough voice, and hecarried a single-barrelled gun under his arm.
You see, now that I am dead I know the use of these things, just as Iunderstand all that was said, though of course at the time it had nomeaning for me. Still I find that I have forgotten nothing, not one wordfrom the beginning of my life to the end.
The keeper, who was on his way to the place where he nailed thecreatures he did not like by dozens upon poles, looked down and saw thefox. "Oh! my beauty," he said, "so I have got you at last. Don't youthink yourself clever trying to bite off that leg. You'd have done ittoo, only I came along just in time. Well, good night, old girl, youwon't have no more of my pheasants."
Then he lifted the gun. There was a most dreadful noise and the foxrolled over and lay still.
"There you are, all neat and tidy, my dear," said the keeper. "Now Imust just tuck you away in the hollow tree before old Grampus sneaksround and sees you, for if he should it will be almost as much as myplace is worth."
Next he set his foot on the trap and, opening it, took hold of the foxby the fore-legs to carry it off. The cat and the owl he stuffed awayinto a great pocket in his coat.
"Jemima! don't you wholly stink," he said, then gave a most awful yell.
The fox wasn't quite dead after all, it was only shamming dead. At anyrate it got Giles' hand in its mouth and made its teeth meet through theflesh.
Now the keeper began to jump about just as the fox had done when itset its paw in the trap, shouting and saying all sorts of things thatsomehow I don't think I ought to repeat here. Round and round hewent with the fox hanging to his hand, like hares do when they dancetogether, for he couldn't get it off anyhow. At last he tumbled downinto a pool of mud and water, and when he got up again all wet through Isaw that the fox was really dead. But it had died biting, and now I knowthat this pleased it very much.
It was just then that the man whom the keeper had called Grampus cameup. He was a big, fat man with a very red face, who made a kind ofblowing noise when he walked fast. I know now that he was the lord ofall the other men about that place, that he lived in the house whichlooked over the sea, and that the boy and girl who put me in with theyellow-toothed rabbit were his children. He was what the farmers called"a first-rate all-round sportsman," which means, my friend--but what isyour name?
"Oh! Mahatma," I answered at hazard.
"Which means, my friend Mahatma, that he spent most of the year inkilling the lower animals such as me. Yes, he spent quite eight monthsout of the twelve in killing us one way and another, for when there wasno more killing to be done in his own country, he would travel to othersand kill there. He would even kill pigeons from a trap, or young rooksjust out of their nests, or rats in a stack, or sparrows amongivy, rather than not kill anything. I've heard Giles say so to theunder-keeper and call him 'a regular slaughterer' and 'a true-bloodEnglishman.'
"Yet, my friend Mahatma, I say in the light of the truth which has cometo me, that according to his knowledge Grampus was a good man. Thus,what little time he had to spare from sport he passed in helping hisbrother men by sending them to prison. Although of course he neverworked or earned anything, he was very rich, because money flowed to himfrom other people who had been very rich, but who at last were forcedto travel this Road and could not bring it with them. If they could havebrought it, I am sure that Grampus would never have got any. However, hedid get it, and he aided a great many people with that part of it whichhe found he could not spend upon himself. He was a very good man, onlyhe liked killing us lower creatures, whom he bred up with his money tobe killed.
"Go on with your story, Hare," I said; "when I see this Red-faced Man Iwill judge of him for myself. Probably you are prejudiced about him."
"I daresay I am," answered the Hare, rubbing its nose; "but pleaseobserve that I am not speaking unkindly of Grampus, although before Ihave done you may think that I might have reason to do so. However, youwill be able to form your own opinion when he comes here, which I amsure he does not mean to do for many, many years. The world is much toocomfortable for him. He does not wish to leave it."
"Still he may be obliged to do so, Hare."
"Oh! no, people like that are never obliged to do anything they do notlike. It is only poor things such as you and I, Mahatma, which mustsuffer. I can see that you have had a great deal to bear, and so haveI, for we were born to suffering as the Red-faced Man was born tohappiness."
"Go on with your story, Hare," I repeated. "You are becomingmetaphysical and therefore dull. The time is short and I want to hearwhat happened."
"Quite so, Mahatma. Well, Grampus came up breathing very heavily andlooking very red in the face. He held his hat in one hand and a largecrooked stick in the other, and even the top of his head, on which nohair grew, was red, for he had been running.
"What the deuce is the matter?" he puffed. "Oh! it is you, Giles, is it?What are you doing, sir, looking like that, all covered with blood andmud? Has a poacher shot you, or what?"
"No, Squire," answered Giles humbly, touching his hat. "I have shot apoacher, that's all, and it has given me what for," and he lifted thebody of the fox from the water.
"A fox," said Grampus, "a fox! Do you mean to say, Giles, that you havedared to shoot a fox, and a vixen with a litter too? How often haveI told you that, although I keep harriers and not fox-hounds, youare never to touch a fox. You will get me into trouble with all myneighbours. I give you a month's notice. You will leave on this daymonth."
"Very well, Squire," said Giles, "I'll leave, and I hope you'll findsome one to serve you better. Meanwhile I didn't shoot the dratted fox.At least I only shot her after she'd gone and got herself into a trapwhich I had set for that there Rectory dog what you told me to make offwith on the quiet, so that the young lady might never know what becomeof it and cry and make a fuss as she did about the last. Then seeingthat she was finished, with her leg half chewed off, I shot her, orrather I didn't shoot her as well as I should, for the beggar gave atwist as I fired, and now she's bit me right through the hand. I onlyhopes you won't have to pay my widow for it, Squire, under the Act,as foxes' bites is uncommon poisonous, especially when they've beena-eating of rotten rabbit."
"Dear me!" said the Red-faced Man softening, "dear me, the beast doesseem to have bitten you very badly. You must go and be cauterised witha red-hot iron. It is painful but the best thing to do. Meanwhile, su
ckit, Giles, suck it! I daresay that will draw out the poison, and if itdoesn't, thank my stars! I am insured. Look here, a minute or two canmake no difference, for if you are poisoned, you are poisoned. Where canwe put this brute? I wouldn't have it seen for ten pounds."
"There's an old pollard, Squire, about five yards away down near thefence, which is hollow and handy," said Giles.
"Quite so," he answered, "I know it well. Do you bring the--dog, Giles.Remember, it was a dog, not a fox."
Then they went to the pollard, and as Giles's hand was hurt theRed-faced Man climbed up it, though Giles tried to prevent him.
"Now then, Giles," he said, "give me the fox--I mean the dog, and I willdrop it down. Great Heavens! how this tree stinks. Has there been anearth here?"
"Not as I knows of, Squire," said Giles sullenly.
Grampus stretched his hand down into the hollow of the pollard anddragged up a rotting fox by its tail.
"Giles," he said, "you have been killing more foxes and hiding them inthis tree. Giles, I dismiss you at once and without a month's wages."
"All right, sir," said Giles, "I'll go, and I prays you'll find some onewhat will keep your hares which you must have, and your pheasants whichyou must have, and your partridges which you must have, without killingthese varmints of foxes what eats the lot."
The Red-faced Man descended from the tree holding his nose and looked atGiles. Giles sucked his bleeding hand and looked at him.
"Foxes are very destructive animals," said the Red-faced Man to Giles,"especially when one shoots and keeps harriers."
"They are that, sir," said Giles to the Red-faced Man, "as only thoseknow what has to do with them."
"Put the other in, Giles," said the Red-faced man, "and when you havetime, throw some soil on to the top of the lot. This place smellshorrible. And look you here, Giles," he added in a voice of thunder, "ifever I find you killing a fox upon this property, you will be dismissedat once, as I have often told you before. Do you understand?"
"Yes, Squire, I understand," answered Giles, "and I'll see to theburying of them this same afternoon, if the pain in my hand will sufferit."
"Very well," said the Red-faced Man, "that's done with--except the cubs.As you have killed the vixen you had better stink the cubs out of theearth. I daresay they are old enough to look after themselves--at anyrate I hope so. And now, Giles, we must shoot some of these hares whenwe begin on the partridges next week. There are too many of them, thetenants are complaining, ungrateful beggars as they are, seeing that Ikeep them for their sport."
At this point I thought that I had heard enough, and slipped away whentheir backs were turned. For, friend Mahatma, I had just seen a foxshot, and now I knew what shooting meant.
*****
About a week later I knew better still. It came about thus. By thattime the turnips I have mentioned, those that grew in the big field, hadswelled into fine, large bulbs with leafy tops. We used to eat them atnights, and in the daytime to lie up among them in our snug forms. Youknow, Mahatma, don't you, that a form is a little hollow which a haremakes in the ground just to fit itself? No hare likes to sleep inanother hare's form. Do you understand?"
"Yes," I answered, "I understand. It would be like a man wearing anotherman's boots."
"I don't know anything about boots Mahatma, except that they are hardthings with iron on them which kick one out of one's form if onesits too close. Once that happened to me. Well, my form was under aparticularly fine turnip that had some dead leaves beneath the greenones. I chose it because, like the brown earth, they just matched thecolour of my back. I was sleeping there quite soundly when my sistercame and woke me.
"There are men in the field," she said, her eyes nearly starting out ofher head with fear, for she was always very timid.
"I'm off."
"Are you?" I answered. "Well, I think I shall stop here where I shan'tbe noticed. If we begin jumping over those turnips they will see us."
"We might run down the rows, keeping our ears close to our backs," sheremarked.
"No," I said, "there are too many bare patches."
At this moment a gun went 'bang' some way off; and my sister, like awise hare, scuttled away at full speed for the wood. But I only mademyself smaller than usual and lay watching and listening.
There was a good deal to see and hear; for instance, a covey ofpartridges, troublesome birds that come scratching and fidgeting aboutwhen one wants to sleep, were running to and fro in a great state ofconcern.
"They are after us," said the old cock.
"I remember the same thing last year. Come on, do."
"How can I with all these young ones to look after?" answered the hen."Why, if once they are scattered I shall never find them again."
"Just as you like, you know best," said the cock. "Goodbye," and awayhe flew, while his wife and the rest ran to a little distance, scatteredand squatted.
Presently, looking back over my shoulders without turning my head, asa hare can, I saw a line of men walking towards me. There was theRed-faced Man whom Giles called Grampus behind his back and Squire tohis face. There was Giles himself, with his hurt hand tied up, holding akind of stick with a slit in it from which hung a lot of dead partridgeswhose necks were in the slit. One of them was not dead or had come tolife again, for it flapped in the stick trying to fly away. He heldthese in the hand that was tied up, and in the other, oh, horror! was adead hare bleeding from its nose. It looked uncommonly like my mother,but whether it were or no I couldn't be quite sure. At least from thatday neither my sister nor I ever saw her again. I suppose you haven'tmet her coming up this big white Road, have you, Mahatma?
"No, no," I answered impatiently, "I have already told you that you arethe first hare I have ever seen upon the Road. Please get on with yourstory, or the Lights will change and the Gates be opened before I hearits end."
Just when I saw her I was thinking of running away, but the sightterrified me so much that I could not stir. You see, Mahatma, I reallyloved my mother as much as a hare can love anything, which is a gooddeal.
Well, beyond Giles was, who do you think? That dreadful boy, Tom, with agun in his hand too. Did I say that they all had guns, except Giles andsome beater men, only that Tom's was single-barrelled? Then there wereothers whom I need not describe, stretching to left and right, and worstof all, perhaps, there was Giles's great black dog, a silly-lookingbeast which always seemed to have its mouth open and its tongue hangingout, and to be wagging a big tail like the fox's, only black and moreragged.
As I watched, up got the old hen partridge and one of her young onesand flew towards me. The Red-faced Man lifted his gun and fired, once,twice, and down came first the mother partridge and then the young one.I forgot to say that Tom fired too at the old partridge, which fell deadquite close to me, leaving a lot of feathers floating in the air. As itfell Tom screeched out--
"I killed that, father."
This made the Red-faced Man very angry.
"You young scoundrel," he said, "how often have I told you not to shootat my birds under my nose? No sportsman shoots at another man's birds,and as for killing it, you were yards under the thing. If you do itagain I will send you home."
"Sorry, father," said Tom, adding in a low voice with a snigger, "Idid kill it after all. Dad thinks no one can hit a partridge excepthimself."
Just then up jumped my father near to Giles, and came leaping in frontof the Red-faced Man about twenty yards away from him.
"Mark hare!" shouted Giles, and Grampus, who was still glowering at Tomand had not quite finished pushing the cartridges into his gun, shutit up in a hurry and fired first one barrel and then the other. But myfather, who was very cunning, jumped into the air at the first shot andducked at the second, so that he was missed; at least I suppose that iswhy he was missed.
Giles grinned and the Red-faced Man said, "Damn!" What does 'damn' mean,Mahatma? It was a very favourite word with the Red-faced Man, but evennow I can't quite understand it."
"Nor can I," I answered. "Go on."
"Well, my poor father next ran in front of Tom, who shot too and hit himin the hind legs so that he rolled over and over in the turnips, kickingand screaming. Have you ever heard a hare scream, Mahatma?"
"Yes, yes, it makes a horrid noise like a baby."
"Wiped your eye that time, Dad," cried Tom in an exultant voice.
"I don't know about wiping my eye," answered his father, turning quitepurple with rage, "but I wish you would be good enough, Thomas, not toshoot my hares behind, so that they make that beastly row which upsetsme" (I think that the Red-faced Man was really kind at the bottom) "andspoils them for the market. If you can't hit a hare in front, miss itlike a gentleman."
"As you do, Dad," said Tom, sniggering again. "All right, I'll try."
"Giles," roared Grampus, pretending not to hear, "send your dog andfetch that hare. I can't bear its screeching."
So that great black dog rushed forward and caught my poor father in itsbig mouth, although he tried to drag himself away on his front paws, andafter that I shut my eyes.
Then a lot of partridges got up and there was any amount of banging,though most of them were missed. This made the Red-faced Man angrierthan ever. He took off his hat and waved it, bellowing--
"Call back that brute of a dog of yours, Giles. Call it back at once orI'll shoot it."
So Giles called, "Nigger. Come you 'ere, Nigger! Nigg, Nigg, Nigg!"
But Nigger rushed about putting up partridges all over the place whileGrampus stamped and shouted and every one missed everything, till atlast Tom sat down on the turnips and roared with laughter.
At length, after Giles had beaten Nigger till he broke a stick overhim, making him howl terribly, order was restored, and the line havingreformed, began to march down on me. For, Mahatma, I was so frightenedby what had happened to my father, and I think my mother, that I didn'tremember what he, I mean my dead father, had told me, always to run awaywhen there is a chance, as poor hares can only protect themselves byflight.
So as I had lost the chance I thought that I would just sit tight,hoping that they would not see me. Nor indeed would they if it hadn'tbeen for that horrible Tom.
During the confusion the mother partridge which the Red-faced Man hadshot had been forgotten by everybody except Tom. Tom, you see, wascertain that he had shot it himself, being a very obstinate boy, and wasdetermined to retrieve it as his own.
Now that partridge had fallen within a yard of me, with its beak andclaws pointing to the sky, and when the line had passed where we lay Tomlagged behind to look for it. He did not find it then, whether he everfound it afterwards I am sure I don't know. But he found me.
"By Jove! here's a hare," he said, and made a grab at me just as he haddone in the furze bush.
Well, I went. Tom shot when I wasn't more than four yards from him, andthe whole charge passed like a bullet between my hind legs and struckthe ground under my stomach, sending up such a shower of earth andstones that I was knocked right over.
"I've hit it!" yelled Tom, as he crammed another cartridge into hissingle-barrelled gun.
By the time that it was loaded I was quite thirty yards away and goinglike the wind. Tom lifted the gun.
"Don't shoot!" roared the Red-faced Man.
"Mind that there boy!" bellowed Giles.
I was running down between two rows of turnips and presently butted intoa lad who was bending over, I suppose to pick up a partridge. At anyrate his tail--"do you call it his tail, Mahatma?"
"That will do," I answered.
"Well, his tail was towards me; it looked very round and shiny. The shotfrom Tom's gun hit it everywhere. I wish they had all gone into it, butas he was so far away the charge scattered and six of the bullets struckme. Oh! they did hurt. Put your hand on my back, Mahatma, and you willfeel the six lumps they made beneath the grey tufts of hair that grewover them, for they are still there."
Forgetting that we were on the Road, I stretched out my hand; but, ofcourse, it went quite through the hare, although I could see the sixlittle grey tufts clearly enough.
"You are foolish, Hare; you don't remember that your body is not herebut somewhere else."
"Quite true, Mahatma. If it were here I could not be talking to you,could I? As a matter of fact, I have no body now. It is--oh, never mindwhere. Still, you can see the grey tufts, can't you? Well, I only hopethat those shot hurt that fat boy half as much as they did me. No, Idon't mean that I hope it now, I used to hope it."
My goodness! didn't he screech, much worse than my father when his legswere broken. And didn't everybody else roar and shout, and didn't Idance? Off I went right over the fat boy, who had tumbled down, upto the end of the field, then so bewildered was I with shock and theburning pain, back again quite close to them.
But now nobody shot at me because they all thought the boy was killedand were gathered round him looking very solemn. Only I saw that theRed-faced Man had Tom by the neck and was kicking him hard.
After that I saw no more, for I ran five miles before I stopped, and atlast lay down in a little swamp near the seashore to which my mother hadonce taken me. My back was burning like fire, and I tried to cool it inthe soft slush.