"
"If dogs love little girls why don't they love hares, at least as
anything likes to be loved, for the dog didn't want to eat the little
girl, did it? I see you can't answer me. Now would you like me to tell
you my story? Something inside of me is saying that I am to do so if you
will listen; also that there is plenty of time, for I am not wanted at
present, and when I am I can run to those gates much quicker than you
could."
"I should like it very much, Hare. Once a prophet heard an ass speak in
order to warn him. But since then, except very, very rarely in dreams,
no creature has talked to a man, so far as I know. Perhaps you wish
to warn me about something, or others through me, as the ass warned
Balaam."
"Who is Balaam? I never heard of Balaam. He wasn't the man who fetches
dead pheasants in the donkey-cart, was he? If so, I've seen him make the
ass talk--with a thick stick. No? Well, never mind, I daresay I should
not understand about him if you told me. Now for my story."
Then the Hare sat itself down, planting its forepaws firmly in front of
it, as these animals do when they are on the watch, looked up at me and
began to pour the contents of its mind into mine.
*****
I was born, it said, or rather told me by thought transference, in a
field of growing corn near to a big wood. At least I suppose I was born
there, though the first thing I remember is playing about in the wheat
with two other little ones of my own size, a brother and a sister that
were born with me.
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