muff, slightly raised her pretty shoulders, and, dropping her tremulous
eyelids, walked on. "It seems a pity," she said, after a pause, "that
we cannot preserve our own miserable existence without taking something
from others--sometimes even a life!" He started. "And it's horrid to
have to remind you that you have yet to kill something for the invalid's
supper," she continued. "I saw a hare in the field yonder."
"You mean that jackass rabbit?" he said, abstractedly.
"What you please. It's a pity you didn't take your gun instead of your
rifle."
"I brought the rifle for protection."
"And a shot gun is only aggressive, I suppose?"
Falkner looked at her for a moment, and then, as the hare suddenly
started across the open a hundred yards away, brought the rifle to his
shoulder. A long interval--as it seemed to Kate--elapsed; the animal
appeared to be already safely out of range, when the rifle suddenly
cracked; the hare bounded in the air like a ball, and dropped
motionless. The girl looked at the marksman in undisguised admiration.
"Is it quite dead?" she said timidly.
"It never knew what struck it."
"It certainly looks less brutal than shooting it with a shot gun, as
John does, and then not killing it outright," said Kate. "I hate what is
called sport and sportsmen, but a rifle seems--"
"What?" said Falkner.
"More--gentlemanly."
She had raised her pretty head in the air, and, with her hand shading
her eyes, was looking around the clear ether, and said meditatively, "I
wonder--no matter."
"What is it?"
"Oh, nothing."
"It is something," said Falkner, with an amused smile, reloading his
rifle.
"Well, you once promised me an eagle's feather for my hat. Isn't that
thing an eagle?"
"I am afraid it's only a hawk."
"Well, that will do. Shoot that!"
Her eyes were sparkling. Falkner withdrew his own with a slight smile,
and raised his rifle with provoking deliberation.
"Are you quite sure it's what you want?" he asked demurely.
"Yes--quick!"
Nevertheless, it was some minutes before the rifle cracked again. The
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