unrelenting as the frost seemed on christmas day, it yielded the next night but one to a warm westerly wind, the thaw setting in before dawn. when andrew crossed to the bullock-house, water was dripping from the barn, by noon bush and boulder were beginning to show on the hill, at nightfall runnel and stream were chattering along their courses. the sound of running water cheered the birds at roost on branch and spray; it cheered the hare too, who kept snuffing the warm breeze that relaxed the icy fetters on the stream and melted the snow clogging his fur. within forty-eight hours the balls of snow had completely disappeared, leaving him as light as a feather for his gallop over the moorland, where his path was marked by the spray which he spurned from the shallow pools. the splashes seemed to be caused by some ricochetting missile, so fleet were his movements: surely in all his life he never sped more swiftly than then.

but though he revelled in the exercise of his unencumbered limbs, he had a keen eye to his safety: the most wily of hunted creatures could not have been more alert and vigilant than he. once from the solitary rock, again and again from knoll and barrow he surveyed the waste to learn whether any enemies were in sight, for he was well aware of their famished condition, and understood that they would employ the greatest stealth in attempting his capture. he kept a sharp look-out for grey fox, carefully examining every object that excited his least suspicion, and in his great dread of a stoat pack he repeatedly scrutinised the surface for the sinuous living line that would apprise him of its approach.

once he thought he detected the eerie serpentine movement characteristic of the stoat; but he was mistaken, the three packs which infested his beats were miles away at the time. though all were terrible scourges to the animals that supplied them with blood, the most formidable, on account of the sagacity and endurance of its leader, was the pack, numbering fourteen in all, whose main stronghold was the lamorna cliffs. even this pack was in peril of famine because of the wariness and scarcity of prey.

in their straits they invaded the homesteads, and on the fourth day of the thaw, when the ice in the pools was the last vestige of the frost, the starving brutes came pouring over the wall of brea farmyard and made straight for the poultry-houses.

some sought the door of the fowls’ house, causing the rooster to shift uneasily on his perch; the rest circled the ducks’ house without finding a way in, for andrew had stopped the holes in the floor to which they penetrated.

thus baulked they entered the cattle-sheds and barn, where in the dead silence they could be heard rustling among the straw. presently a rat appeared on the roof and climbed to the old weather-cock on the roof of the pigeon-cote. two stoats followed, but failed to trace him to the forlorn refuge whence he was watching them.

half an hour passed thus in profitless search before the leader, standing in the middle of the yard, uttered a shrill cry. this rallied the band to her, and the yard at once seemed alive with the restless creatures darting hither and thither in their impatience to be gone.

they took little notice of the owl that glided to and fro, screaming as it flew; yet they were so ravenous that they would have killed and eaten him, if they could have caught him, bird of prey though he was. the farmer’s wife lay awake wondering what ailed the screech-owl: the hare in the field bordering the bridle-track also wondered, but like the woman, without surmising the cause. the noise ceased when presently the pack left the yard and made past the sycamore towards the lane, seemingly on the way to the “curlew” moor. when abreast of the broken grindstone, however, the leader, who was at her wits’ end to know where to go, suddenly turned and retraced her steps along the bridle-track. abrupt as was her turning movement each stoat kept its place as though it were part of a snake, which in truth the long file closely resembled.

reaching the stone steps into the field where the hare was at pasture, the leader appeared to be in two minds as to whether she should mount them or go straight on. a hedgehog brought her to a decision. he had been drawn from his winter quarters by the open weather, showed just then on the path and instantly attracted her. he was very sleepy, but he saw the stoats coming, immediately curled into a ball, and so awaited their onset.

what savagery the famished creatures exhibited! what determined though futile efforts they made to penetrate the hedgehog’s defence! blood was drawn, it is true, their heads were smeared with it, but it was their own blood which they licked before again falling tooth and nail on the prickly ball. their second assault proving as unsuccessful as the first, they formed a ring around the urchin, chattering to unnerve it and so cause it to unfold. all their efforts were vain, the hedgehog was impregnable to moral as to physical attack.

but though the blood-curdling chorus was wasted on the hedgehog, it so affrighted the hare that he broke into a panic-stricken flight, nor did he stop till he had reached the chantry. there he stood listening for the cry he dreaded. his apprehensions however were unwarranted, the stoats were ignorant of his neighbourhood, and on abandoning the hedgehog retreated in the direction of the southern cliffs, slowly at first but more quickly as the night grew old, for fear of being surprised by dawn.

a faint glow suffused the low east when they reached carn boscawen, proceeded singly along ledge after ledge to its sea-washed face, clambered between the breaking waves up and up the wet rock and finally crept into crevices beyond reach of the spray.

for a while not a hair of them was to be seen, but the moment the sun rose they appeared at the mouths of the stronghold and lay with their long, gaunt bodies stretched to their full length to catch what little warmth the lurid orb vouchsafed.

in the light of day these night marauders looked the cruel, bloodthirsty bandits they were, the three whom the spell of arctic cold had ermined presenting an even more fiendish aspect than the others. when too the sun passed behind the angry clouds so that carn and sea, shorn of the rays that gilded them, lay in deep shadow, the outlawed crew seemed to be in harmony with their savage surroundings and no unfit neighbours of the kite perched on the crag above.

by and by, suddenly as they had appeared, they withdrew, curled up on the rocky floor and fell asleep.

what a contrast the hare in his seat on the hill furnished to the carnivorous bandits of the carn! he looked as fearful as they looked bold, his long, quivering ears proclaimed his timidity no less plainly than the prominent eyes that overlooked the moor all the grey afternoon till they turned towards a storm far out at sea where lightning played in a black cloud, below which presently the blood-red sun went down.

and thus was ushered in a night of tragedy with hare and stoats for actors, moor and cliff for setting.

at dusk the hare left his couch and descended the hill to his pasture on brea farm. there he wandered from enclosure to enclosure picking up what little herbage he could find. it took him hours to get his fill.

meanwhile the stoats who had quitted their fastness were heading for the moor, tempted by the presence of some wading birds which they had disturbed the previous night on their return journey. on the way they turned aside here and there in the hope of securing other prey, so that it was within an hour of midnight when they reached the purlieus of the waste, that looked pitch-black beneath the stormy sky.

at the spot where they struck the heath they were two miles from the linhay field which the hare presently left for his usual gallop. so wide however was its surface that nine times out of ten the pack might have hunted and the hare enjoyed his spin without either being aware of the other’s presence; twice it had so happened during the month now within an hour of its close; but the hare’s good fortune had temporarily forsaken him and his time come to stand before the pack.

black though the night was, had the hare been as alert as usual, he could hardly have failed to discern at least the ghostly forms of the white members of the band in time to secure a long start and perhaps get clean away. immunity from molestation in the moor explains the poor look-out he kept. his lack of vigilance was to cost him dear, inasmuch as he succeeded in arresting his steps only just in time to avoid running into the pack as it showed above the slight rise that for a few seconds had effectually concealed it from view.

at sight of them he turned and fled, and though more frightened than ever before, did the best thing possible; he made straight for the pool, for he hoped by placing the wide water between him and his pursuers to disconcert them and put an end to the chase.

the stoats followed, forging ahead at their utmost pace, except when they checked their steps and stood still to look about them as is their wont; why, it is impossible to say, but certainly not to give “law” to the quarry. so several seconds ahead of them, the hare reached the pool midway between the islet and the reed-bed, plunged in, floundered through the shallows, and on getting beyond his depth, struck out for the opposite shore.

ice still covered most of the surface, but following an open channel he got more than half-way across before he found himself confronted by a sheet which, thin and rotten though it was, arrested his progress.

he tried to clamber on to it but the brittle edge broke under his pads. his position was most critical. to make matters worse, the cry of his pursuers now sounded very distinct; they were evidently close to the pool. what if they took to the water and met him as he swam? for he must go back or drown. in the dilemma he turned and struck out for the shore he had left. he seemed to be swimming into the jaws of death. soon however fortune befriended him. for as he swam he saw at one side a narrow strait just wide enough to admit him, and into it he turned as the pack took to the water, swimming swiftly and with heads held high. they must have viewed the hare had not the moon been completely obscured by a black cloud, which completely shut off the pallid beams that for a brief space had lit the moor.

soon they passed the narrow opening and approached the barrier. no barrier did it prove to them. they landed with the greatest ease, galloped over the ice, gained the shore and began casting for the quarry. meanwhile the hare had gained the reed-bed whence, owing to the conspicuousness of the ermined stoats, he was able to follow the movements of the pack, till presently the ghostly forms were swallowed up in the darkness as they made for the further end of the pool.

the hare seizing the opportunity made off, his face set for the “curlew” moor. no longer however does he move with full freedom of limb; the paralysing influence of the stoats is upon him. how he labours as if held back by some restraining hand, how slow his progress! he feels doomed, for escape is impossible and refuge there is none.

suddenly he stops, as suddenly resumes his way, but in a direction at right angles to his former course.

across the black waste he has seen the glimmer of light that tells of the presence of man. he is making towards it as to a beacon of hope. by and by he reaches the church, from whose coloured windows the glow proceeds, and from his station amongst the tombs listens to the singing. whilst he listens there comes from the moor the shrill cry of his pursuers. at the sound he resumes his flight, following the rude road through the village towards sennen green, where he halts as if loath to quit the abode of man for the wild beyond. death is approaching, but it must overtake him; he cannot await his fate. whilst the bells ring the old year out, the new year in, he lopes on and on past vellandreath, past genvor to the lonely tregiffian cliffs. there from a rise he looks back and sees the extended file of his enemies as they gallop down the opposite slope. the ground in front is studded with rocks. threading his way among these he finds himself within a score yards of some men lying on the turf. as they lie they form an irregular ring. into this he passes without an instant’s hesitation and squats in their midst.

the stoats on the other hand fell to silence, stopping motionless by the rocks.

the men were smugglers and all asleep save the sentry, who lay near the edge of the cliff watching so eagerly for the expected boat that he had not heard the stoats’ cry, though it sounded distinct above the roar of the sea.

presently the man rose to his feet and paced up and down, his oilskins creaking as he moved. only for a moment did he take his eyes from the dark waters below whilst he ignited the tinder and lit his pipe. now and again a spark was blown in the direction of the stoats, but they took no more notice of that than of the cry uttered by one of the sleeping smugglers. nothing would drive the bold, ravenous pack away, at least nothing but dawn; and that was hours and hours distant.

suddenly a red light came and went near the foot of the cliffs; it was a signal from the boat and was answered by the watch with a hoot like that of a screech-owl. immediately all was stir, the men jumping to their feet and making for the adit that communicated with the cave into which the boat with its load of kegs had already been taken.

the hare, far from being frightened by the sudden commotion, dogged the steps of the men and sat in a recess in the wall of the tunnel; the stoats who had followed dared not penetrate there; so they stood and watched him from the mouth.

the smugglers worked as if for their lives; two, by means of a long rope, hauling the kegs from the cave to the adit, whilst the other five carried them to the furzebrake on the hillside and hid them amongst the bushes.

the continual passing to and fro of the men cheered the hare in his niche, for it served to alarm the stoats and keep them at a distance.

scarcely had the last of the kegs been hidden away when one of the smugglers, he who had cried out in his sleep, gave a false alarm, causing the others to rush to the adit, where one after the other they slid down the rope to the cave, all except the sentry, whose duty it was to haul up the line and stow it away. an old hand at the trade and a man of iron nerve, he proceeded to coil the rope in the most leisurely way before he came out of the adit, bringing the rope on his arm. he thought he was alone, but he was not; the hare kept as close to his heels as a dog, while the stoats followed at a short distance.

dark though it was, the smuggler held along the brink of the cliff till compelled to swerve by a great pile of rocks that looked against the murky sky like a black wall. by and by as he skirted it he stopped and, shifting the rope to his left arm, began feeling the face of the rock with his right. he was searching for the rude steps by which he would reach the summit of the carn to hide the rope, the hare meanwhile remaining so close to his feet that once it actually grazed his sea-boots with its soft side. presently he found the place and began the ascent, thus leaving the hare to the mercy of the stoats.

before the smuggler had climbed four feet the hare realised his danger. at once he fled along the edge of the cliff, the stoats, who had already begun to creep towards him, in hot pursuit.

whilst he was free from the numbing sensation of fear, which had subsided in the friendly presence of man, his relentless persecutors even at their utmost speed seemed almost motionless behind him, but the moment it returned, cramping his powers, he lost ground.

then he began to look anxiously about him to find a refuge, as in that lay now his only hope of escape.

the sea from half a score caverns bellowed its invitation, but he heeded it not. only in the last resort would he cast himself over the cliff, so in weariness and fear he struggled on with the terrorising cry of the pack ever in his ears.

before him lay a small and oddly shaped headland, so narrow at its base that any animal seeking the coast beyond was certain to cross the neck and avoid going round.

not so the hare. as if fearful of losing touch of the cliff, he took no notice of the short cut, but held on round the promontory till, near the extreme point, he struck and followed a track laid by foxes—a treacherous track, that after winding in and out between overhanging rocks and the lip of the cliff, suddenly ended on the brink of a precipice. he saw the predicament he was in shortly after rounding the point, and despair gripped his heart.

but when he had almost given himself up for lost, a shelf of rock that projected over the track offered asylum if only he could reach it. once, twice he gathered his limbs, only to recoil from launching himself at the leap, for he felt that it was more than he could compass. then he listened to the swelling cry; that warned him he had not a moment to lose.

animals, like men, when face to face with death, perform feats seemingly beyond their powers. thus it was with the hare, into whose mad spring was concentrated all the force that love of life could rouse. but his greatest efforts merely enabled him to get such a grip of the rock as prevented him from falling back. frantic was his struggle to complete a lodgment by dragging his hind legs to the shelf. he succeeded just in time to squat as the first of the stoats came galloping round the point and pulled up at the spot where the trail suddenly ended. in a twinkling the rest of the band followed, and recognising the situation, looked to the leader for guidance.

no time was lost. some went to the end of the track and stood gazing at the depths below, but the greater number followed the leader over the brink of the precipice, abreast of the ledge. the daring creatures seemed to be courting destruction in attempting the descent; their claw-grip and marvellous agility, however, took them safely down places that might have been thought to deny foothold, and all reached the undercliff without mishap. now they stood at the edge of the tide, where from every point of vantage, even from the crown of the streaming rocks, they scanned the white water, appearing to imagine that the hare had leapt into the surf and was to be seen there if only their eyes could detect her. nothing met their gaze except a splintered bowsprit, and by and by, after extending their search beyond the point, they climbed the cliff again, rejoining the others where they stood beneath the ledge.

the situation of the starving creatures was a desperate one, and for a moment the leader was as completely at a loss what to do as the rest of the pack. suddenly it occurred to her that the hare might have returned on his trail, have leapt aside and made off inland; the next instant she sprang over the backs of the stoats surrounding her, to return to the extreme point. that was the spot from which she conjectured he would make his leap, and on reaching it she searched the ground near it for traces of his scent. nose to ground she tried rocks, fern, cushions of sea-pinks, even the heather covering the highest part of the headland, before going back to a spot near the point where she happened to be on a level with the shelf.

at that moment the moon lit up the scene, silvering the sea, revealing the narrow track and the pack clustered there with heads directed to their leader. her attitude tells them something has excited her curiosity. her eyes are scrutinising the strange object on the ledge, and though it lies completely shadowed by another ledge above, she presently recognises the hare, and in some way communicates her discovery to her followers.

thereupon they strive to reach the shelf, some by the overhanging wall, the rest by leaping; but all their efforts are in vain.

meanwhile the leader has succeeded in gaining the higher ledge, from which by craning her neck she is able to see the hare beneath, who indeed is within a few feet of her.

the upper shelf is semicircular, and point after point of its circumference she examines in the hope of being able to get at her prey. soon she discovers a notch. from this, twisting her lissom body, she tries to leap to the lower shelf, only to fail, and narrowly escape falling over the precipice. she is soon back for another attempt. once and again she is near succeeding. had the indent been a little deeper, had the under ledge projected but another inch, had it only been a little lower, she must have flung herself on to it; but as it stood, it was beyond her skill.

her resources, however, were not exhausted. resting her fore feet on the edge of the shelf, every toe extended and every claw gripping the rock, she lowered her long white body and swung it to and fro like a ghostly pendulum. now this way, now that, it oscillated, till presently at the full extent of her inward swing she let go—falling on her back within a few inches of the hare.

then he showed the wonderful grit that was in him. as she fell he rose, lashed out with his powerful hind legs and sent her flying by a kick that drove her over the edge, down, down, down to the raging waters far below.

the loss of their leader discouraged the rest of the pack. as if in distress, they kept darting up and down the track till a deluge of rain drove them off.

the hare was left master of the field. his flank rose and fell more quickly than its wont, the pupils of his eyes were distended as never before, but already he was planning his escape, and had chosen the retreat he would make for.

hours of blinding rain followed, lightning occasionally lit up the blackness shrouding cliff and sea; it was no weather for any living thing to be abroad in, and indeed nothing appeared till near dawn, when a bedraggled white creature made her way with difficulty up the face of the cliff and staggered to the track. it was the leader of the stoats, who after struggling with the backwash which had nearly buffeted the life out of her, had managed to land, and after a long rest, come back for her followers.

awhile she stood beneath the ledge and looked up. too feeble to do more, she meant to return at dusk to pit her wit against the hare’s, in some way to get at him, drive her fangs into his great vein and drink deep of his blood: she was even thinking of the feast in prospect as she crawled away on the trail of the pack.

she was, however, reckoning without her host. in as wild a dawn as ever broke upon the land’s end, the hare leapt from his sanctuary and stole over the rain-lashed moor to chapel carn brea, where, happy in the thought that the downpour would destroy all trace of his trail, he fell soundly asleep, nor even dreamt of the terrible ordeal through which he had passed.