lung my gun off, whar 'd you 'a' been now!
Don' you come pokin' in my way ag'in!"

Tim was too much elated to be long affected by even this severity, and
when he had got out of Uncle Jack's way he sang out:

"Ole Molly Hyah,
You' ears mighty thin.
Yes, yes, yes,
I come a-t'ippin' thoo de win'!"

So far the honors were all Uncle Jack's and Milker-Tim's, and it was
necessary for the rest of us to do something. Accordingly, the bottom
having been well hunted, the crowd struck out for an old field over
the hill, known as "the long hillside." It was thick in hen-grass
and broom-straw, and sloped down from a piece of pine with a southern
exposure on which the sun shone warm. We had not reached it before
a hare jumped out of a bush near Charlie. In a few moments, another
bounced out before one of the dogs and went dashing across the field.
Two shots followed her; but she kept on till at last one of the boys
secured her.

We were going down the slope when Peter called in great excitement,

"Heah a ole hyah settin' in her haid. Come heah, Dan, quick! Gi' me your
gun; le' me git him!"

This was more than Dan bargained for, as he had not got one himself yet.
He ran up quickly enough, but held on tightly to his gun.

"Where is he? Show him to me: I 'll knock him over."

As he would not give up the gun, Peter pointed out the game.

"See him?"

"No."

"Right under dat bush--right dyah" (pointing). "See him? Teck keer dyah,
Don, teck keer," he called, as Don came to a point just beyond. "See
him?" He pointed a black finger with tremulous eagerness.

No, Dan did not see, so he reluctantly yielded up the gun.

Peter took aim long and laboriously, shut both eyes, pulled the trigger,
and blazed away.

There was a dash of white and brown, a yell, and Don wheeled around
with his head between his forepaws stung by the shot as "molly" fled
streaking it over the hill followed only by the dogs.

Peter's face was a study. If he had killed one of us he could not have
looked more like a criminal, nor have heard more abuse.

Uncle Limpy-Jack poured out on him such a volume of vituperation and
contempt that he was almost white, he was so ashy.

Don was not permanently hurt; but one ear was pierced by several shot,
which was a serious affair, as his beauty was one of his good points,
and his presence on a hare-hunt was wholly against the rules. Uncle
Limpy-Jack painted the terrors of the return home for Pete