The black flies came
in crowds; but they are not so tormenting if you plunge your face in the
grass, though they titillate the back of the hand as they run over it.
Under the bramble bush was a bury that did not look much used; and once
or twice a great blue fly came out of it, the buzz at first sounding
hollow and afar off and becoming clearer as it approached the mouth of
the hole. There was the carcass of a dead rabbit inside no doubt.
A humble-bee wandering along--they are restless things--buzzed right
under my hat, and became entangled in the grass by my ear. Now we knew
by experience in taking their honey that they could sting sharply if
irritated, though good-tempered by nature. How he 'burred' and buzzed
and droned!--till by-and-by, crawling up the back of my head, he found
an open space and sailed away. Then, looking out again, there was a pair
of ears in the grass not ten yards distant: a rabbit had come out at
last. But the first delight was quickly over: the ears were short and
sharply pointed, and almost pinkly transparent.
What would the shepherd say if I brought home one of his hated enemies
no bigger than a rat? The young rabbit made waiting still more painful,
being far enough from the hedge to get a clear view into the recess if
anything attracted his notice. Why the shepherd hated rabbits was
because the sheep would not feed where they had worn their runs in the
grass.
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