“Yes, let us; there are more berries there!” And the girls clambered down into the hollow, holding on to the bushes and along the little crevices, and up again on the other side. And here they chanced at once on a spot lying in the full glare of the sunlight, covered with fine grass and sprinkled thick with strawberries; and straightway they set to work with hands and mouths, silently and without pausing. Suddenly something rustled through the stillness, and with a terrible noise (as it seemed to them) rattled and clattered among the grass and bushes.

Groúsha fell down with a fright, upsetting the already half-filled jug. “Mammy!” she whimpered, and began to cry.

“A hare, a hare!⁠ ⁠… Taráska, a hare!⁠ ⁠… There he is!” shouted little Ólga, pointing to the grey-brown back that gleamed through the bushes. “What’s the matter with you?” she said to Groúsha, when the hare had disappeared.