heavy after use that until wrung,
which takes time, a strong man can barely carry it; and if a sudden
alarm comes it must be abandoned.

It is pleasant to rest awhile on the parapet in the shadow of the
bushes. The low thud-thud of sculls in the rowlocks of a distant punt
travels up the water. By-and-by a hare comes along, enters on the
bridge, and almost reaches the gate in the middle before he spies
anything suspicious. Such a spot, and, indeed, any gateway, used to be a
favourite place to set a net, and then drive the hares towards it with a
cur dog that ran silent. Bold must be the man that would set a net in a
footpath now, with almost every field preserved by owner or tenant. With
a bound the hare hies back and across the meadow: the gun comes to the
shoulder as swiftly.

On the grass lit by the moon the hare looked quite distinct, but the
moment the gaze is concentrated up the barrel he becomes a dim object
with no defined outline. In shooting on the ground by twilight or in the
moonbeams, waste no time in endeavouring to aim, but think of the hare's
ears--say a couple of feet in front of his tail--and the moment the gun
feels steady pull the trigger. The flash and report come together; there
is a dull indescribable sound ahead, as some of the shot strikes home in
fur and some drills into the turf, and then a rustling in the grass. The
moorhens dive, and the coots scuttle down the brook towards the mere at
the flash. While yet the sulphurous smoke lingers, slow to disperse,
over the cool dewy sward, there comes back an echo from the wood behind,
then another from the mere, then another and another beyond.

The distant sculls have ceased to work in the rowlocks--those in the
punt are listening to the echoes; most likely they have been fishing for
tench in the deep holes under the black shadow of the aspens. (Tench
feed in the dark: if you wish to take a big one wait till it is
necessary to fix a piece of white paper on the float.) Now put the empty
cartridge in your pocket instead of throwing it aside; pull the hare's
neck across your knee, and hurry off. But you may safely stay to harle
him; for those very echoes that have been heard a mile round about are
the best safeguard: not one man in a thousand could tell the true
direction whence the sound of the explosion originated.

The pleasure of wandering in a wood was so great that it could never be
resisted, and did not solely arise from the instinct of shootin