A CRAFTY SOW. 325 



indicated with his hand which way we were to go, 

 when I observed that he was cautiously followed from 

 the cabin by a lean old sow, who, it struck me from her 

 actions, was perfectly well aware of what we were going 

 to do. Having selected a spot for camping on by the 

 side of the brushwood of the creek, as usual I strolled 

 out with Brutus and my shot-gun, but without finding a 

 symptom of any game. 



