Indeed there none
are afraid; when they glide from their death-beds to the Road they leave
fear behind them with the other terrors of our mortal lot.
Presently he became conscious of the presence of the Hare, and thoughts
passed through his mind which of course I could read.
"My word!" he said to himself, "things are better than I hoped. There's
a hare, and where there are hares there must be hunting and shooting.
Oh! if only I had a gun, or the ghost of a gun!"
Then an idea struck him. He lifted his hunting-crop and hurled it at the
Hare.
As it was only the shadow of a crop of course it could hurt nothing.
Still it went through the shadow of the Hare and caused it to twist
round like lightning.
"That was a good shot anyway," he reflected, with a satisfied smile.
By now the Hare had seen him.
"_The Red-faced Man!_" it exclaimed, "Grampus himself!" and it turned to
flee away.
"Don't be frightened," I cried, "he can't hurt you; nothing can hurt you
here."
The Hare halted and sat up. "No," it said, "I forgot. But you saw, he
tried to. Now, Mahatma, you will understand what a bloodthirsty brute he
is. Even after I am dead he has tried to kill me again."
"Well, and why not?" interrupted the Man. "What are hares for except to
be killed?"
"There, Mahatma, you hear him. Look at me, Man, who am I?"
So he looked at the Hare and the Hare looked at him. Presently his face
grew puzzled.
"By Jingo!" he said slowly, "you are uncommonly like--you _are_ that
accursed witch of a hare which cost me my life.
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