He was muttering to himself in an annoyed way.
‘But, Martin—do you mean to shoot them?’
‘Shoot them? I should say I do, if I get the chance.’
‘I never have been able to understand how people can bear to shoot rabbits.’
‘Hum,’ said Martin, grim and indifferent. ‘You mustn’t expect me to be sentimental about ’em.’
His eyes roved round alertly; his gun was ready to go up in a trice. He was not giving a thought now to Judith walking beside him.
Just over the crest of the hill came a sudden small kicking and flurry. A tiny pair of fur legs started away into the bracken, the white scut glancing and bobbing. But the bracken thinned away to nothing here: the small form was bound to emerge again in a moment.
There was a sharp crack.
‘Aha!’ said Martin; and he went forward to where something flipped in the air and fell back again, horribly twitching in a mechanical and aimless motion.
‘Oh! Oh! Oh!’ She stood rooted where he had left her, aghast.