FIELD NATURALISTS' CLUB. 159 



the ascent is trying, but still on and on I labour — what matters 

 my foot ; what matters short breath, what matters it I can hardly 

 see ; what matters anything in the wide world, so long as / am 

 in at the death. The hill is surmounted and again we are rush- 

 ing helter-skelter into another valley. I can scarcely see ; I can 

 hardly hear for the beating of my own heart. I only know that 

 we are in full chase and that if it lasts much longer, I cannot. If 

 I can only climb that next hill I may perhaps be in at the end. 

 Never was there so steep a hill, never were the lianes thicker, 

 never were there so many importunate thorns, never were there such 

 a quantity, each one lodging in my clothing with the tenacity of 

 a minute grappling iron ; never were my legs, used only to the 

 unimpeded paths of town, so weary ; never was my strength so 

 feeble. AtlastI reach the hill-top, ready tosink with fatigue, lungs 

 almost bursting with laboured exertion. I must give up ; but 

 Carr shouts " He has stood up — listen to the music ! ! " Such a 

 grand canine chorus in the valley beneath ; it rends the air, clear 

 and distinct ; it puts new life into me and mustering up my 

 little remaining strength for one supreme effort, I fly down the 

 precipitous descent, catching at the trees as I pass for momentary 

 support. What a sight ! At the bottom of the ravine the hill 

 ascends sharply on three sides of us ; to the right there is a gentle 

 descent. In a hollow, over which grows a Bois Mulatre, with his 

 hind quarters against its roots, with fiercely bristling grey and 

 black hair, flashing black eyes, and gleaming white teeth stands 

 our game — at bay ! His undaunted front is opposed by five or 

 six fierce dogs, yelping and jumping, now rushing forward, now 

 retreating, as the peccary with wondrous activity turns this way 

 and that champing, snapping, gnashing his formidable tusks with 

 rage. First one way and then another turns the furious beast 

 but escape is impossible and, finding himself surrounded the 

 brave animal prepares to sell his life as dearly as he can. The 

 dogs are not afraid, they know their business well, they have 

 simply to keep the quarry at bay; but the quenk is an old boar, 

 resolute withal, and means mischief to his canine persecutors. 

 He rushes forward now and again and as he does so, the 

 dogs threaten his Hanks. Bull tries to seize his throat and the 

 quenk turns to repel the attack. Immediately Gertrude jumps in 

 from the other side — Alas ! poor Gertrude, your last battle ! — the 

 pigturnsas quick as thought and drives his tusk right into her breast 

 ripping it up with one deep keen stroke and permanently dislocat- 

 ing her shoulder ; another rip in the neck follows as quickly, and 

 with a piteous howl poor Gertrude drags herself away with blood 

 flowing from four or five wounds. Melon and Bull dash .simulta- 

 neously at the peccary's throat and are each received with two 

 lightning-like right and left rips of the terrible tusks. Jubilee tries 

 his luck but the peccary drives him back. Cook, cunning old 



