"What's that cry?" asked Oblonsky, drawing Levin's attention to

a prolonged cry, as though a colt were whinnying in a high voice,

in play.

"Oh, don't you know it? That's the hare. But enough talking!

Listen, it's flying!" almost shrieked Levin, cocking his gun.

They heard a shrill whistle in the distance, and in the exact

time, so well known to the sportsman, two seconds later--

another, a third, and after the third whistle the hoarse,

guttural cry could be heard.

Levin looked about him to right and to left, and there, just

facing him against the dusky blue sky above the confused mass of

tender shoots of the aspens, he saw the flying bird. It was

flying straight towards him; the guttural cry, like the even

tearing of some strong stuff, sounded close to his ear; the long

beak and neck of the bird could be seen, and at the very

instant when Levin was taking aim, behind the bush where Oblonsky

stood, there was a flash of red lightning: the bird dropped like

an arrow, and darted upwards again. Again came the red flash and

the sound of a blow, and fluttering its wings as though trying to

keep up in the air, the bird halted, stopped still an instant,

and fell with a heavy splash on the slushy ground.

"Can I have missed it?" shouted Stepan Arkadyevitch, who could

not see for the smoke.

"Here it is!" said Levin, pointing to Laska, who with one ear

raised, wagging the end of her shaggy tail, came slowly back as

though she would prolong the pleasure, and as it were smiling,

brought the dead bird to her master. "Well, I'm glad you were

successful," said Levin, who, at the same time, had a sense of

envy that he had not succeeded in shooting the snipe.

"It was a bad shot from the right barrel," responded Stepan

Arkadyevitch, loading his gun. "Sh...it's flying!"

The shrill whistles rapidly following one another were heard

again. Two snipe, playing and chasing one another, and only

whistling, not crying, flew straight at the very heads of the

sportsmen. There was the report of four shots, and like swallows

the snipe turned swift somersaults in the air and vanished from

sight.

The stand-shooting was capital. Stepan Arkadyevitch shot two

more birds and Levin two, of which one was not found. It began

to get dark. Venus, bright and silvery, shone with her soft

light low down in the west behind the birch trees, and high up in

the east twinkled the red lights of Arcturus. Over his head

Levin made out the stars of the Great Bear and lost them again.

The snipe had ceased flying; but Levin resolved to stay a little

longer, till Venus, which he saw below a branch of birch, should

be above it, and the stars of the Great Bear should be perfectly

plain. Venus had risen above the branch, and the ear of the

Great Bear with its shaft was now all plainly visible against the

dark blue sky, yet still he waited.




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