the shore they were shivering, stunned, yet happy in their futile
devotion, and ready to fling themselves in again.

Others persistently begged for a couple of old bones at the thresholds
of deserted cottages along the road, waiting for kicks, and their eyes
were filled with an inexpressible melancholy.

There was also a scissors-grinder's dog, who with tongue hanging out,
was joyfully turning the wheel-work which made the stone revolve, even
though no knife was held against it in the process of sharpening. But
his eyes shone with the unquestioning faith in a duty fulfilled; he
ceased not to labor except to catch his breath, and then he labored
again.

Then there was a sheep-dog, who, ever faithful, sought to bring back
to a fold ewes that were evermore straying. He was pursuing them on
the bank of a brook which gleamed on the edge of a grassy hill.

From this green hill and from out of the under-woods a pack of hounds
broke forth. They had hunted the hinds and gazelles of their dreams
all the day long. Their baying which lingered about the ancient scents
sounded like the happy bells on a flowery Easter morning.

Not far from here the sheep-dogs and the little spaniel established
their home. But when the latter wished to bid Rabbit a tender farewell
she saw that Long-Ear had slipped away on hearing the dogs of the
chase.

And it was without him that the hawks, the owl, the doves, the wolf,
and the ewes had to continue their flight or their progress. They