"Now we shall see the hare," said my mother; and just then a hare wild
with fright rushed by and made for the woods. On came the dogs; they
burst over the bank, leaped the stream, and came dashing across the
field followed by the huntsmen. Six or eight men leaped their horses
clean over, close upon the dogs. The hare tried to get through the
fence; it was too thick, and she turned sharp round to make for the
road, but it was too late; the dogs were upon her with their wild cries;
we heard one shriek, and that was the end of her. One of the huntsmen
rode up and whipped off the dogs, who would soon have torn her to
pieces. He held her up by the leg torn and bleeding, and all the
gentlemen seemed well pleased.

As for me, I was so astonished that I did not at first see what was
going on by the brook; but when I did look there was a sad sight; two
fine horses were down, one was struggling in the stream, and the other
was groaning on the grass. One of the riders was getting out of the
water covered with mud, the other lay quite still.

"His neck is broke," said my mother.

"And serve him right, too," said one of the colts.

I thought the same, but my mother did not join with us.

"Well, no," she said, "you must not say that; but though I am an old
horse, and have seen and heard a great deal, I never yet could make out
why men are so fond of this sport; they often hurt themselves, often
spoil good horses, and tear up the fields, and all for a hare or a fox,
or a stag, that they could get more easily some other way; but we are
only horses, and don't know."