text:  It's over in a few minutes. 124 are cast up on the bank. Well done. Well done. Good. Woo-hoop. Woo-hoop. Good. That's the way, my boys. Woo-hoop. Woo-hoop. And they roll on the ground. They stretch and wipe the dirt out on their eyes and rub their faces in the grass. In the West Country, it's so infested with the jackrabbits that the whole community rises to drift the pests in a never-nearing circle that at last ends in a corral. Here, they are leisurely shot or killed with clubs.