On the way across the field he fell in with two other hares. They were
nibbling and playing. The gray hare joined his mates, helped them
clear away the icy snow, ate a few seeds of winter wheat, and then
went on his way.
In the village it was all quiet; the fires were out; the only sound on
the street was a baby crying in a cottage, and the framework of the
houses creaking under the frost.
The hare hastened to the threshing-floor, and there he found some of
his mates. He played with them on the well-swept floor, ate some oats
from the tub on which they had already begun, mounted the snow-covered
roof into the granary, and then went through the hedge toward his
hole.
In the east the dawn was already beginning to redden, the stars
dwindled, and the frosty vapor grew thicker over the face of the
earth. In the neighboring village the women woke up and went out after
water; the peasants began carrying fodder from the granaries; the
children were shouting. Along the highway more and more teams passed
by, and the peasants talked in louder tones.
The hare leaped across the road, went to his old hole, selected a
place a little higher up, dug away the snow, curled into the depths of
his new hole, stretched his ears along his back, and went to sleep
with his eyes wide open.
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