Barret (before meeting Mrs Moss!), who rightly guessed the cause of all
the noise.

About midday, like Barret, he prepared to comfort himself with lunch,
and, unlike our unfortunate hero, he enjoyed it in comfort, sitting on a
green patch or terrace, high up near the summit of the cliffs, and a
full mile distant from the spot where the peculiar meeting took place.

Like a giant refreshed MacRummle rose from lunch, a good deal more like
Bacchus, and much less like Nimrod. A rabbit had been watching him from
the cliff above nearly all the time he was eating. It moved quietly
into its burrow when he rose, though there was no occasion to do so,
because, although within easy rifle shot, MacRummle did not see it.
When the sportsman was past, the rabbit came out and looked after him.

Fixing his glasses firmly he advanced in that stooping posture, with the
rifle at the "ready," which is so characteristic of keen sportsmen!
Next moment a rabbit stood before him--an easy shot. It sat up on its
hind legs even, as if inviting its fate, and gazed as though uncertain
whether the man was going to advance or not. He did not advance, but
took a steady, deadly aim, and was on the point of pulling the trigger
when the glasses dropped off.

MacRummle was wonderfully patient. He said nothing. He merely replaced
his glasses and looked. The rabbit was gone. Several surrounding
rabbits saw it go, but did not follow its example. They evidently felt
themselves safe.

Proceeding cautiously onward, the sportsman again caught sight of one of
the multitude that surrounded him. It was seated on the edge of its
burrow, ready for retreat. Alas! for that rabbit, if MacRummle had been
an average shot, armed with a shot gun. But it was ignorant, and with
the characteristic presumption of ignorance, it sat still. The
sportsman took a careful and long--very long--aim, and fired! The
rabbit's nose pointed to the world's centre, its tail to the sky, and
when the smoke cleared away, it also was gone.

"Fallen into its hole! Dead, I suppose," was the remark with which the
sportsman sought to comfort himself. A bullet-mark on a rock, however,
two feet to the left of the hole, and about a foot too high, shook his
faith a little in this view.

It was impossible, however, that a man should expend so much ammunition
in a region swarming with his particular prey without experiencing
something in the shape of a fluke. He did, after a time, get