At length, after Giles had beaten Nigger till he broke a stick over
him, making him howl terribly, order was restored, and the line having
reformed, began to march down on me. For, Mahatma, I was so frightened
by what had happened to my father, and I think my mother, that I didn't
remember what he, I mean my dead father, had told me, always to run away
when there is a chance, as poor hares can only protect themselves by
flight.
So as I had lost the chance I thought that I would just sit tight,
hoping that they would not see me. Nor indeed would they if it hadn't
been for that horrible Tom.
During the confusion the mother partridge which the Red-faced Man had
shot had been forgotten by everybody except Tom. Tom, you see, was
certain that he had shot it himself, being a very obstinate boy, and was
determined to retrieve it as his own.
Now that partridge had fallen within a yard of me, with its beak and
claws pointing to the sky, and when the line had passed where we lay Tom
lagged behind to look for it. He did not find it then, whether he ever
found it afterwards I am sure I don't know. But he found me.
"By Jove! here's a hare," he said, and made a grab at me just as he had
done in the furze bush.
Well, I went. Tom shot when I wasn't more than four yards from him, and
the whole charge passed like a bullet between my hind legs and struck
the ground under my stomach, sending up such a shower of earth and
stones that I was knocked right over.
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