A Rabbit's Fates
There was a small rabbit in our woods who might have congratulated himself on two wonderful escapes from death. We first made his acquaintance in a quiet by-lane, and just in time to drive away a stoat that was loping swiftly along on his trail. A little rabbit is pathetic in fear, and instinctively one is angered against the stoat which would take its life—though the stoat's teeth represent the natural weapon of rabbit destruction. The rabbit fled on his way—directly towards a motor-car coming at speed round a corner. He darted to one side, escaping the wheels by the fur of his tail, then foolishly turned across the road, and again escaped the wheels by a miracle. We wondered whether the fate thus avoided would have been easier than the one delayed—no doubt soon after the stoat's teeth bit home in the tender neck.
