Dick o' the Fens Part 37

"Ha, ha, ha!" laughed d.i.c.k, and his companion joined in. "I should like to see you catch a hare, Dave."

"Shouldst ta, lad? Very well, wait a bit."

They tramped on, with Dave picking up an egg here, a couple there, in a way that was most exasperating to the boys, whose luck was very bad.

"I never saw such eyes," said Tom. "I can't see the eggs like he can."

Dave chuckled as if he had a rattlesnake in his throat, and they went on for a while till d.i.c.k stopped suddenly, and pointed to the side of one of the fen ponds.

"That isn't a heron," he said.

"No. One o' them long-legged ones--a crane," said Dave. "Getting straange and scarce now. Used to be lots of 'em breed here when my grandfather was a boy. Nay, nay, don't scar' him," he cried, checking d.i.c.k, who was about to wave his hands. "Niver disturb the birds wi'out you want 'em to eat or sell. Now, then: yonder's a hare."

"Where?" cried Tom. "I can't see it."

"Over yonder among that dry gra.s.s."

"There isn't," said d.i.c.k. "I can't see any hare."

"Like me to go and catch him, young Tom?"

"Here, I'll soon see if there's a hare," cried d.i.c.k; but Dave caught him by the shoulder with a grip of iron, and thrust the pole he carried into the soft bog.

"I didn't say I was going to run a hare down," he said. "Theer's a hare yonder in her form. Shall I go and catch her?"

"Yes," said d.i.c.k, grinning. "Shall I say, 's.h.!.+'"

"Nay, if thou'rt going to play tricks, lad, I shall howd my hand. I thowt yow wanted to see me ketch a hare."

"Go on, then," said d.i.c.k, laughing; "we won't move."

Dave chuckled, swung his basket behind him as if hung by a strip of cow-hide over his shoulder, and walked quietly on, in and out among the tufts of heather and moss, for some five-and-twenty yards.

"He's laughing at us," said d.i.c.k.

"No, he isn't. I've heard Hickathrift say he can catch hares," replied Tom. "Look!"

For just then they saw Dave go straight up to a tuft of dry gra.s.s, stoop down and pick up a hare by its ears, and place it on his left arm.

The boys ran up excitedly.

"Why, Dave, I didn't think you could do it!" cried d.i.c.k.

"Dessay not," replied the decoy-man, uttering his unpleasant laugh.

"Theer, she's a beauty, isn't she?"

The hare struggled for a moment or two, and then crouched down in the man's arm, with its heart throbbing and great eyes staring round at its captors.

"Kill it, Dave, kill it," cried Tom.

"Kill it! What for? Pretty creatur'," said Dave, stroking the hare's brown speckled fur, and laying its long black-tipped sensitive ears smoothly down over its back.

"To take home."

"Nay, who kills hares at the end of March, lad? Hares is mad in March."

"Is that why it let you catch it, Dave?"

"Mebbe, lad, mebbe, Mester d.i.c.k. Theer, hev you done stroking her?"

"No. Why?"

"Going to let her run?"

"Wait a bit," cried d.i.c.k.

"Tek her by the ears, lad, and putt thy hand beneath her. That's the ways."

d.i.c.k took the hare in his arms, and the trembling beast submitted without a struggle.

"How did you know it was there?" said Tom.

"How did I know she was theer! Why, she had her ears c.o.c.ked-up listening, plain enough to see. Theer, let her go now. She's got a wife somewheers about."

"_She's_ got a wife! Why don't you say _He_?" cried d.i.c.k. "Now, Tom, I'm going to let him go; but he won't run, he's a sick one. You'll see.

Anyone could catch a hare like this."

He carefully placed the hare upon the ground, holding tightly by its ears.

"There," he cried; "I told you so! Look how stupid and--Oh!"

The hare made one great leap, and then hardly seemed to touch the ground again with its muscular hind-legs; but went off at a tremendous rate, bounding over heath and tuft, till it disappeared in the distance.

"There's a sleepy sick one for you, Mester d.i.c.k!" cried Dave. "Now, then, goo and ketch her, lad."

"Well, I never!" cried d.i.c.k. "I say, Dave, how do you manage it? Could you catch another?"

"Ay, lad, many as I like."

"And rabbits too?"

"Nay, I don't say that. I hev ketched rabbuds that ways, but not often.

Rabbud always makes for his hole."

As he spoke he walked back to where he had left his pole standing in the bog earth, and they trudged on again to where a lane of water impeded their further progress.

"Too wide for you, lads?" said Dave.