wood, for he had seen wire before and knew how to escape it. Still he
was terribly frightened and made us keep in the wood till the following
evening, not even allowing my mother to go to her form in the rough
pasture on its other side and lie up there.

Also we were in trouble because my brother's forepaw was broken. It gave
him a great deal of pain, so that he could not rest or sleep. After a
while, however, it mended up in a fashion, but he was never able to run
as fast as we could, nor did he grow so big. In the end the mother fox
killed him, as I shall tell.

My mother asked my father what the men with the sticks were doing--for,
you know, many animals can talk to each other in their own way, even if
they are of different kinds. He told her that they were protecting the
wheat to prevent us from eating it, to which she answered angrily that
hares must live somehow, especially when they had young ones to nurse.
My father replied that men did not seem to think so, and perhaps they
had young ones also. I see now that my father was a philosophic hare.
But are you tired of my story?

"Not at all," I answered; "go on, please. It is very interesting to hear
things described from the animal's point of view, especially when that
animal has grown wise and learned to understand."

"Ah," answered the Hare. "I see what you mean. And it is odd, but I do
understand. All has become clear to me. I don't know what happened when
I died, but there came a change, and I knew that I who was but a beast
always have been and still am a necessary part of everything as much as
you are, though more helpless and humble. Yes, I am as ancient and as
far-reaching as yourself, but how I began and how I shall end is dark to