“But—”
“Why, can’t you see, lad? and do be quiet, or the rabbits won’t bolt. I put him in one of the holes ten minutes ago.”
A flush of excitement seemed to run through me now, as I noted that every here and there were places in the turfy bank where the sandy soil had been scraped out, and the next moment I saw what had escaped me before, that every hole I could see was covered with a fine net.
Mercer had seen it too, and I saw him rub his hands softly as if delighted with the promise of sport, but another ten minutes passed, and the rabbits made no sign of being anxious to rush out and be caught, and I began to grow impatient.
“Hadn’t you better try another place?” I whispered, but the man held up his hand, drew his knees under him, and crouched in an attitude that was almost doglike in its animal aspect.
Then there was a rushing noise just above us, and Magglin scrambled forward and dashed his hands down upon a rabbit which came bounding out of a hole and rolled down the slope, tangled in the net.
The next minute it had received a chop on the back of the neck, ceased struggling, been transferred to Magglin’s pocket, and the net was spread over the hole again.
“That’s a bad farret, ain’t it, Master Mercer?” said Magglin, showing his teeth. “You’d best sell un back to me; I should be glad on it for five shillings.”
“Hush! I thought I heard one, Magg,” whispered Mercer, ignoring the remark. “I say, let me catch the next.”
“Either of you may if you can,” he replied; and we waited again for some time.