"Still, friend Mahatma, is it not said that yonder lives some Power
which judges righteously and declares what is true and what is false?"

"I have heard so, Hare."

"Very well, Man, I lay my cause before that Power--do you the same. If I
am wrong I will go back to earth to be tortured by you and yours again.
If, however, I am right, you shall abide the judgment of the Power, and
I ask that It will make of you--a hunted hare!"

Now when he heard these awful words--for they were awful--no less, the
Red-faced Man grew much disturbed. He hummed and he hawed, and shifted
his feet about. At last he said--

"You must admit that while you lived you had a first-class time under my
protection. Lots of turnips to eat and so forth."

"A first-class time!" the Hare answered with withering scorn. "What sort
of a time would you have had if some one had shot you all over the back
and you must creep away to die of pain and starvation? How would you
have enjoyed it if, from day to day, you had been forced to live in
terror of cunning monsters, who at any hour might appear to hurt you in
some new fashion? Do you suppose that animals cannot feel fear, and is
continual fear the kind of friend that gives them a 'first-class time'?"

To this last argument the Man seemed able to find no answer.

"Mr. Hare," he said humbly, "we are all fallible. Although I never
thought to find myself in the position of having to do so, I will admit