SMALL GAME HUNTING WITH DOGS 



rushing up the other ! However, the pack soon got on 

 the line, and, running for only 200 yards, brought the 

 old hog to bay in some thick fern. They were wise 

 enough not to tackle him, and we spent quite half-an- 

 hour in trying to move or view the old brute. He then 

 gave us a long run and we both got some difficult snap- 

 shots before he made his final stand in some very thick 

 scrub near the river. To move him seemed impossible ; 

 the dogs were too frightened to go in, and we tried firing 

 No. 4 shot, throwing stones, &c., without success. Two 

 hours were spent at this game, and, losing all patience, 

 I decided to go in myself. The dogs were at my heels, 

 and I had forced my way about 10 yards into the thicket 

 when they made a short rush past me. There was a 

 grunt and a crash the dogs dashed back and I stood 

 at the ready then all was still. Crouching down and 

 peering into the dense undergrowth, 1 saw a black mass 

 not 5 feet from me. It was not a dog, I knew, as I 

 counted them. I decided to fire after learning the position 

 of Wood and the dog boy (who was up a 'tree). The 

 dogs rushed forward to the shot and I knew that the 

 fight was over. A fine boar he proved to be. My first 

 shot had broken his hind leg just below the hock, while 

 the last shot completely raked his body. 



S 1 



