Free The White Peacock by D. H. Lawrence

he.
    George, who had been feeling one finger tip, now took out his pen–knife
and proceeded to dig a thorn from his hand.
    "What a hide you must have," said Leslie.
    Lettie said nothing, but she recoiled slightly.
    The father, glad of an excuse to straighten his back and to chat, came
to us.
    "You'd soon had enough," he said, laughing to Leslie.
    George startled us with a sudden, "Holloa." We turned, and saw a rabbit,
which had burst from the corn, go coursing through the hedge, dodging
and bounding the sheaves. The standing corn was a patch along the
hill–side some fifty paces in length, and ten or so in width.
    "I didn't think there'd have been any in," said the father, picking up a
short rake, and going to the low wall of the corn. We all followed.
    "Watch!" said the father, "if you see the heads of the corn shake!"
    We prowled round the patch of corn.
    "Hold! Look out!" shouted the father excitedly, and immediately after a
rabbit broke from the cover.
    "Ay—Ay—Ay," was the shout, "turn him—turn him!" We set off full pelt.
The bewildered little brute, scared by Leslie's wild running and crying,
turned from its course, and dodged across the hill, threading its
terrified course through the maze of lying sheaves, spurting on in a
painful zigzag, now bounding over an untied bundle of corn, now swerving
from the sound of a shout. The little wretch was hard pressed; George
rushed upon it. It darted into some fallen corn, but he had seen it, and
had fallen on it. In an instant he was up again, and the little creature
was dangling from his hand.
    We returned, panting, sweating, our eyes flashing, to the edge of the
standing corn. I heard Lettie calling, and turning round saw Emily and
the two children entering the field as they passed from school.
    "There's another!" shouted Leslie.
    I saw the oat–tops quiver. "Here! Here!" I yelled. The animal leaped
out, and made for the hedge. George and Leslie, who were on that side,
dashed off, turned him, and he coursed back our way. I headed him off to
the father who swept in pursuit for a short distance, but who was too
heavy for the work. The little beast made towards the gate, but this
time Mollie, with her hat in her hand and her hair flying, whirled upon
him, and she and the little fragile lad sent him back again. The rabbit
was getting tired. It dodged the sheaves badly, running towards the top
hedge. I went after it. If I could have let myself fall on it I could
have caught it, but this was impossible to me, and I merely prevented
its dashing through the hole into safety. It raced along the hedge
bottom. George tore after it. As he was upon it, it darted into the
hedge. He fell flat, and shot his hand into the gap. But it had escaped.
He lay there, panting in great sobs, and looking at me with eyes in
which excitement and exhaustion struggled like flickering light and
darkness. When he could speak, he said, "Why didn't you fall on top of
it?"
    "I couldn't," said I.
    We returned again. The two children were peering into the thick corn
also. We thought there was nothing more. George began to mow. As I
walked round I caught sight of a rabbit skulking near the bottom corner
of the patch. Its ears lay pressed against its back; I could see the
palpitation of the heart under the brown fur, and I could see the
shining dark eyes looking at me. I felt no pity for it, but still I
could not actually hurt it. I beckoned to the father. He ran up, and
aimed a blow with the rake. There was a sharp little cry which sent a
hot pain through me as if I had been cut. But the rabbit ran out, and
instantly I forgot the cry, and gave pursuit, fairly feeling my fingers
stiffen to choke it. It was all lame. Leslie was upon it in a moment,
and he almost pulled its head off in his excitement to kill it.
    I looked up. The girls were at the gate, just turning away.
    "There are no more," said the father.
    At that instant Mary shouted.
    "There's one down this hole."
    The hole was too small for George to