THE PIG 



" Nevertheless there are men of dauntless cour- 

 age who go straight for the furious beast and plunge 

 their hunting knife into its heart. But usually the 

 thing is attended with less peril and with no such 

 atrocious ripping-up of the dogs, a sport for the 

 grand seigneurs. Ambushed in a safe place, the 

 hunter awaits the boar and gives it a couple of bul- 

 lets as it passes; and that is the end of it. If the 

 attack is less spectacular, at least it spares the life of 

 the dog and does not endanger man's/' 



"Then I give it preference, " Jules declared, 

 "to that in which a whole pack might be killed. 

 I don't like that slaughter of dogs, with the boar's 

 tusks ripping them open there in the underbrush." 



"And what do they do with the beast after they 

 have killed him?" asked Louis. 



"It is a piece of game," replied Uncle Paul, "that 

 surpasses anything else to be found in our woods. 

 Such a boar, old hermit-boar, as we call him, may 

 weigh as much as two hundred kilograms. That is 

 enough for a feast, I should hope, and all the more 

 so as the flesh is excellent. The piece of honor is 

 the head, the famous boar's head. 



"The Asiatic wild boar, from which the domestic 

 pig descends, does not differ from ours in its habits ; 

 it is, like ours, a ferocious, coarse, vigorous, bold, 

 voracious animal, a formidable creature to encounter 

 in the dark woods. How has this intractable beast 

 become the pig that we raise? By what care, what 

 gentle treatment, has it been made to lose its ancient 

 savagery? To these questions there is no further 



