My
Only Consolation Was That Jack Failed To Capture More Than
One Out Of Every Hundred, Or Perhaps Five Hundred, Of The
Creatures He Hunted, And That I Was Even Able To Save A Few Of
These.
But I could not help admiring his tremendous energy
and courage, especially in cliff-climbing when we visited the
headlands - those stupendous masses and lofty piles of granite
which rise like castles built by giants of old.
He would
almost make me tremble for his life when, after climbing on to
some projecting rock, he would go to the extreme end and look
down over it as if it pleased him to watch the big waves break
in foam on the black rocks a couple of hundred feet below.
But it was not the big green waves or any sight in nature that
drew him - he sniffed and sniffed and wriggled and twisted his
black nose, and raised and depressed his ears as he sniffed,
and was excited solely because the upward currents of air
brought him tidings of living creatures that lurked in the
rocks below - badger and fox and rabbit. One day when quitting
one of these places, on looking up I spied Jack standing on
the summit of a precipice about seventy-five feet high. Jack
saw me and waved his tail, and then started to come straight
down to me! From the top a faint rabbit track was, visible
winding downwards to within twenty-four feet of the ground;
the rest was a sheer wall of rock.
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