290 CASUALS IN THE CAUCASUS 



miles-from-anywhere village at home, the same chatter 

 and palaver, and rushing to tell each other. The wild 

 had something to talk about for days ahead. 



One day we beat solely for pig, on which day the 

 porkers certainly had the best of it. I came through 

 the least of the density with the beaters, and helped 

 speed a fine boar towards Cecily, who had the Prince to 

 load for her. As he saw them the animal baulked, and 

 turning on his tracks dashed back to me. I threw 

 myself into a thicket of wolf's-tooth thorn in order to 

 avoid the charge. Don't ever do it, an you can help 

 it ; wolf's-tooth pricks dreadfully. As I raised my 

 scratched face to peer back at the scene of action I 

 saw the malicious eyes of the boar gazing at me from 

 a cover not twenty-five yards off. 



To charge or not to charge — that was his question. 

 Luckily for me he answered in the negative, and was 

 off instanter with a savage snort, to fall across the line 

 of beaters, who up to now did not seem to realize that 

 a Juggernaut was loose in our midst. The men, 

 shouting and prodding the grass wildly with their 

 used-for-everything flintlocks, adroitly turned the pig 

 into a cut de sac of thorny jungle tangle, around which 

 they all danced fearlessly, still brandishing the weapons 

 of which I stood in fear and trembling. They all had 

 a playful habit of going off in the most promiscuous 

 fashion, and, with a lofty indifference of convention, 

 few of the men ever thought of bringing the weapons 

 to the shoulder, which added a sporting element of 

 chance to the blankest day — you couldn't conjecture 

 where the haphazard charge would lodge. 



