When the rabbit was put down it
cowered low and seemed trying to shrink into the ground; its ears were
pressed hard back, its head was pressed closely to the grass, and it was
huddled in an ecstasy of terror. Of course that is quite usual, but we
practical sportsmen cannot waste time over the sentimental terrors of a
rabbit. The greasy man uttered a howl, and Bunny started up, ran in a
circle, and then set off for the fence. I was struck by the animal's
mode of running. For hours I have watched them feeding, at early morning
or sundown, and I have noticed that as they shifted from place to place
they moved with a slow kind of hop, gathering their hind legs under them
at each stride. When Bunny is on his own ground he is one of the fastest
of four-footed things. He lays himself down to the ground, and travels
at such a terrific pace for about forty yards that he looks like a mere
streak on the ground. I never yet saw a terrier that could turn a rabbit
unless Bunny was imprudent enough to wander more than one hundred yards
from home.
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