It was all the two men could do to secure their prey, manage the ferrets, and keep a watch on the holes.

Hurd's great hands--now fixing the pegs that held the nets, now dealing death to the entangled rabbit, whose neck he broke in an instant by a turn of the thumb, now winding up the line that held the ferret--seemed to be everywhere.
At last a ferret "laid up," the string attached to him having either slipped or broken, greatly to the disgust of the men, who did not want to be driven either to dig, which made a noise and took time, or to lose their animal.

The rabbits made no more sign, and it was tolerably evident that they had got as much as they were likely to get out of that particular "bury." Hurd thrust his arm deep into the hole where he had put the ferret.
"Ther's summat in the way," he declared at last.

"Mos' likely a dead un.
Gi' me the spade." He dug away the mouth of the hole, making as little noise as possible, and tried again.
"'Ere ee be," he cried, clutching at something, drew it out, exclaimed in disgust, flung it away, and pounced upon a rabbit which on the removal of the obstacle followed like a flash, pursued by the lost ferret.

Hurd caught the rabbit by the neck, held it by main force, and killed it; then put the ferret into his pocket.