"At the end of two hundred yards it gave in. It just lay down in
the path like a thing already dead and waited for what we should
choose to do.
"I picked it up. I showed it to Farrell, keeping my fingers on
the faint little heart.
"'They say,' said I, 'it's lucky when a hare pops out in your
path. What do you think?'
"'Worth carrying home?' said Farrell. 'I'm partial to hare.
But he's a bit undersized for Leadenhall Market'--and the fool
laughed.
"'We'll let him go,' said I.
"'I guess he's too far scared to crawl,' he suggested doubtfully.
"'Turn about and watch,' said I. 'It may have escaped your
memory that you once accused me of being cruel to animals.
Turn about, and watch. Don't move.'
"I undid the three upper buttons of my waistcoat, stowed the
little fellow down inside, against my shirt, leaving his head
free, so that I could stroke his ears and brainpan. I let
Farrell see this, stepped past him, and walked slowly back down
the path.
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