Orion jumped upon the mound from the other side, and from that elevation sent a third cartridge after her.
It was a long, a very long shot, but the hare perceptibly winced.

Still, she drew easily away from the dogs, going straight for a distant gateway.

But before it was reached the pace slackened; she made ineffectual attempts to double as the slow spaniels overtook her, but her strength was ebbing, and they quickly ran in.

Reloading, and in none of the best of tempers, I followed the mound.

The miss was of course the gun's fault--it was foul; or the cartridges, or the bad quality of the powder.
We passed the well-remembered hollow ash pollard, whence, years before, we had taken the young owls, and in which we had hidden the old single-barrel gun one sultry afternoon when it suddenly came on to thunder.