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Yazar: Leo Tolstoy

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"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.

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