But he was mad to see me bitten to death and eaten, and until he had
done so would attend to no one. He only shouted, "One--two--three! Now,
hounds! _Worry, worry, worry!_"
Then he threw me into the air above the red throats and gnashing teeth
which leapt up towards me.
*****
The Hare paused, but added, "Did you tell me, friend Mahatma, that you
had never been torn to pieces by hounds, 'broken up,' I believe they
call it?"
"Yes, I did," I answered, "and what is more I shall be obliged if you
will not dwell upon the subject."
THE COMING OF THE RED-FACED MAN
"As you like," said the Hare. "Certainly it was very dreadful. It seemed
to last a long time. But I don't mind it so much now, for I feel that it
can never happen to me again. At least I hope it can't, for I don't know
what I have done to deserve such a fate, any more than I know why it
should have happened to me once."
"Something you did in a previous existence, perhaps," I answered. "You
see then you may have hunted other creatures so cruelly that at last
your turn came to suffer what you had made them suffer. I often think
that because of what we have done before we men are also really being
hunted by something we cannot see."
"Ah!" exclaimed the Hare, "I never thought of that. I hope it is true,
for it makes things seem juster and less wicked. But I say, friend
Mahatma, what am I doing here now, where you tell me poor creatures with
four feet never, or hardly ever come?"
"I don't know, Hare.
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