Page:Round the Yule Log.djvu/101

Rh a rag. The day after I was busy cleaning my rifle when the peasant came up to me.

"'Well, what about the hare, lieutenant?' he asked with a sly wink.

"I told him what had happened.

"'Many have been after him, as I told you, but you must know it's not an easy job to catch him,' he repeated with a great deal of mystery. 'I see you are cleaning your gun, sir, but I should say that's not of much use. It won't kill Puss any better for that.'

"'But, goodness gracious, what can that hare be made of?' I asked. 'Do you mean to say that powder and shot will not take any effect on him?'

"'I think it is as you say,' he answered. 'I may as well tell you that the hare himself is possessed; the one which you saw yesterday is only his double; he himself plays no pranks like that. But I'll give you a bit of advice! Take a blindworm — I'll find you one — and ram it into the barrel of your gun and then fire it, after that you may try what powder and shot will do.'

"I did as he said. He got me a live blindworm, which we forced into the barrel of the gun; I fired it against the barn wall, and strange to say, there was nothing to be seen but a wet mark.

"Some days later I went up on the Sukkestad-moor. It was very early in the morning. The dogs were no sooner let loose, than the hare was afoot. This time there was no stopping or casting, but the hounds were soon in full cry, and after half-an-hour's run, the hare came dancing down the moor towards me. I put up my gun and fired; he dropped down dead on the spot. He was a big old rake, full of marks and scars, and he had only an ear and a half."

"I have also heard about a similar hare," said Peter, who had listened to the captain s story with great attention. "He used to knock about here in Holleia, and they said he was nearly black. A good many were after him and had a shot at him, but they never had any luck, until this rascally Andreas came here. He shot it, for he must put his nose in everywhere, you know. It was he we saw the tracks of down by Rausand hill. He is a scamp, he is,