“Must keep the life in her somehow,” answered Tom, and went on blowing.
“Master Tom,” interrupted Giles, who was rowing the boat. “I ain’t particular, but I wish you’d leave that there hare alone. Somehow I thinks there’s bad news in its eye. Who knows? P’raps the little devil feels. Any way, it’s a rum one, its swimming out to sea. I never see’d a hunted hare do that afore.”
“Bosh!” said Tom, and continued his blowing.
We reached the shore and Tom jumped out of the boat, holding me by the ears. The hounds were all on the beach, most of them lying down, for they were very tired, but the men were standing in a knot at a distance talking earnestly, Tom ran to the hounds, crying out—
“Here she is, my beauties, here she is!” whereon they got up and began to bay. Then he held me above them.
“Master Tom,” I heard Jerry’s voice say, “for God’s sake let that hare go and listen, Master Tom,” and the girl Ella, who of a sudden had begun to sob, tried to pull him back.
But he was mad to see me bitten to death and eaten, and until he had done so would attend to no one. He only shouted, “One—two—three! Now, hounds! Worry, worry, worry!”
Then he threw me into the air above the red throats and gnashing teeth which leapt up towards me.
The Hare paused, but added, “Did you tell me, friend Mahatma, that you had never been torn to pieces by hounds, ‘broken up,’ I believe they call it?”