“I don’t quite know, Hare.  Never looked at the matter in that light before.  But—­ah!  I’ve got you now,” he added triumphantly.  “If it hadn’t been for me you never would have lived.  You see I gave you the gift of life.  Therefore, instead of grumbling, you should be very much obliged to me.  Don’t you understand?  I preserved hares, so that without me you would never have been a hare.  Isn’t that right, Mr.—­ Mr.—­I am sorry I have forgotten your name,” he added, turning towards me.

“Mahatma,” I said.

“Oh! yes, I remember it now—­Mr.—­ah—­Mr. Hatter.”

“There is something in the argument,” I replied cautiously, “but let us hear our friend’s answer.”

“Answer—­my answer!  Well, here it is.  What are you, Man, who dare to say that you give life or withhold it?  You a Lord of life, you! I tell you that I know little, yet I am sure that you or those like you have no more power to create life than the world we have left has to bid the stars to shine.  If the life must come, it will come, and if it cannot fulfil itself as a hare, then it will appear as something else.  If you say that you create life, I, the poor beast which you tortured, tell you that you are a presumptuous liar.”

“You dare to lecture me,” said the Man, “me, the heir of all the ages, as the poet called me.  Why, you nasty little animal, do you know that I have killed hundreds like you, and,” he added, with a sudden afflatus of pride, “thousands of other creatures, such as pheasants, to say nothing of deer and larger game?  That has been my principal occupation since I was a boy.  I may say that I have lived for sport; got very little else to show for my life, so to speak.”

“Oh!” said the Hare, “have you?  Well, if I were you, I shouldn’t boast about it just now.  You see, we are still outside of those Gates.  Who knows but that you will find every one of the living things you have amused yourself by slaughtering waiting for you within them, each praying for justice to its Maker and your own?”

“My word!” said the Man, “what a horrible notion; it’s like a bad dream.”

He reflected a little, then added, “Well, if they do, I’ve got my answer.  I killed them for food; man must live.  Millions of pheasants are sold to be eaten every year at a much smaller price than they cost to breed.  What do you say to that, Mr. Hatter?  Finishes him, I think.”

“I’m not arguing,” I replied.  “Ask the Hare.”

“Yes, ask me, Man, and although you are repeating yourself, I’ll answer with another question, knowing that here you must tell the truth.  Did you really rear us all for food?  Was it for this that you kept your keepers, your running dogs and your hunting dogs, that you might kill poor defenceless beasts and birds to fill men’s stomachs?  If this was so, I have nothing more to say.  Indeed, if our deaths or sufferings at their hands really help men in any way, I have nothing more to say.  I admit that you are higher and stronger than we are, and have a right to use us for your own advantage, or even to destroy us altogether if we harm you.”