When I was two years old, something happened which I have never forgotten. It was early spring, and there was a light mist over the trees and fields. The other young fellows and I were feeding at the lower end of the field when we heard the distant cry of dogs. The oldest among us lifted his head to listen. "There are the hounds ", he said, and immediately raced off. The rest of us followed him to the top of the field where we could see several fields beyond. Soon the dogs were all racing down the field next to ours, making a loud "yoyoyoyo" sound. After then came men on horses, some in green coats. Suddenly, the dogs became silent and ran around with their noses to the ground. "They've lost the smell of the hare." said the old horse. "Perhaps it will escape." But the dogs began their "yoyoyoyo" again and came at full speed towards our field. Just then a hare, wild with fear, ran towards the trees. The dogs jumped over the stream and ran across the field, followed by the huntsmen. Six or eight jumped their horses over the stream, close behind the dogs. Before the hare could get away, the dogs were upon her with wild cries. We heard a terrible scream, and that was the end of the hare. One of the men picked her up and held her by the leg. She was covered in blood, but all the huntsmen seemed pleased. I was so greatly surprised that at first I did not see what was happening by the stream but when I did look, I saw a sad sight. Two fine horses were down, one in the stream struggling to stand up and the other on the grass with one of his legs broken. One rider, who seemed unhurt, was climbing out of the water, but the other lay quite still. "His neck is broken," said my mother. "I can't understand why men are so fond of this sport. They often hurt themselves and ruin good horses, all for one hare that they could get more easily in other ways. But we are only horses, and don't know why men do these things." They carried the dead rider to our master's house, and then came back to the black horse on the grass. The animal was in great pain and one of his legs was broken. Someone ran to our master's house and came back to the horse with a gun. Soon after there was a loud bang and a terrible cry, and the black horse did not move any more. The best title for the passage would be   _   .
WhataPoorHare MyTerrible ChildhoodMemory A Black Horse SceneryintheField