"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.