And proudly she led them away to another feeding ground.
What more the Child might have seen had time been allowed him will
never be known, for now the session was interrupted. He was hoping for
a porcupine to come by, or a deer, or a moose. He was half-hoping,
half-fearing that it might be a bear, or a big Canadian lynx with
dreadful eyes and tufted ears. But before any of these more formidable
wonders arrived he heard a sound of rushing--of eager, desperate
flight. Then a rabbit came into view--he felt sure it was one of the
two who appeared at the beginning of his watch. The poor beast was
plainly in an ecstasy of terror, running violently, but as it were
aimlessly, and every now and then stopping short, all of a-tremble, as
if despair were robbing it of its powers. It ran straight past the
poplar sapling, swerved off to the right, and disappeared; but the
Child could hear the sound of its going and perceived that it was
making a circle. A couple of seconds later came the weasel, running
with its nose in the air, as if catching the scent from the air rather
than from the fugitive's tracks.
The weasel did not seem to be in any hurry at all. It was the picture
of cool, deadly, implacable determination.
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