iew, Finn suffered at this stage from the
absence of the Master's eye and hand, and so did the rabbits; but,
from another point of view, Finn gained. He became harder, more
wily, and a far more expert hunter than he would have been under a
more disciplined regime. But certainly he also became less
domesticated, and vastly less fastidious than, for example, that
exquisite great lady, his mother.

There came a certain late summer's day, with more than a hint of
autumn in the air, when something happened which Finn never quite
forgot. The Master had been away for three weeks on end, and Tara
had missed him sadly. In the evening the great bitch would often
whimper quietly as she lay outstretched, with her long, grey muzzle
resting on the slippers which the Mistress never thought of taking
from her. Of late she had cared less and less for any kind of
activity, and seemed more and more to desire the presence of the
Master. Now, in the evening of the day which brought strong hints
of coming autumn with it, Finn lay beside Tara in the outside den,
thinking lazily of an upland meadow, with a copse at its far end,
which he meant to hunt presently. Suddenly there came a sound of a
man's footfall on the gravel beyond the gateway and in front of the
house. Tara's nostrils quivered as her head rose. With one mighty
bound she was outside the den. The gates stood open. The Master, at
the garden's far end, called--

"Tara! Tara, girl! Here, girl!"

Finn was by Tara's flank, and he saw her leap forward, hurtling
through the air like an arrow from a bow. Six great bounds she
gave, while fleet Finn galloped a good twenty paces behind her, and
then Tara stopped suddenly with a strange, moaning cry, staggered
for a moment, as the Master ran towards her, and then fell
sideways, against his knee, with glazing eyes turned up for a last
glimpse of the face she loved. The Master was kneeling on the
gravel, and Tara's shoulders were in his arms; but at the end of
two long-drawn sighs, Tara was dead.

Finn was sniffing at his mother's back. He did not know just what
had happened, but he was profoundly conscious that the happening
was tragic, and that his beautiful mother was the victim. The shock
to the Master was very great; for he was already unhappy, and he
had loved this mother of heroes of his very dearly. But the shock
to Finn, though far less complex, was scarcely less great. He had
killed many scores of times, but it seemed that he ha