TURNING ABOUT. 147 



be started on a moderate trot toward the presumptuous hunter. The latter thought 

 it fa i;ood time to make a change of location, and he proceeded to do so, without 

 lingering on the way. 



Pongo's first impulse was to take to one of the trees, into which he was confident 

 of clambering before the tusks could reach him. But, observing that his pony was 

 near, he started for him. Before, however, he could come up with the steed, he 

 perceived that the boar had given up the pursuit, and had returned to crunching 

 nuts beneath the tree. It looked as if he was afraid the visitor meant to root out 

 the food from under his nose, and he only cared to keep him at a distance. 



Pongo walked slowly back, stopping farther away than before. Had he possessed 

 a gun, he could have brought down the hog without trouble. He could use the 

 boomerang with effect against him, but you can understand that it was an awkward 

 weapon to be employed for such purpose, since there was too much neck to be 

 cloven in two, as he had done with the ostrich and serpent. 



All at once, the boar stopped eating, and, without looking at the native, began 

 walking along the side of the jungle, in the direction that Pongo had been fol- 

 lowing when he came upon him. 



The Bushman now ran out to where his horse was grazing, and, springing upon 

 his back, started after the boar, not directly behind him, but a short distance away 

 from the trees, the courses of the two being parallel. The animal was on its return 

 to his lair, which could not be far off. A rocky portion of the jungle, a furlong 

 ahead, most likely was the location. 



The Bushman was at a loss what to do. He was eager for a bout with the hog, 

 but he held him in considerable awe, and Mr. Godkin was too far off to be summoned 

 to the spot. A few minutes more would be enough for the fugitive, if he may be 

 called such, to reach his home, from which it would be impossible to dislodge him. 



At such times, when the boar is worried, he will make a sudden dash out upon 

 the dogs, rip several of them to death, maiming a horse, perhaps, and then dart 

 back to cover before any of the hunters can drive a spear into his body. 



Astride of his fleet steed, Pongo felt safer than when on foot. Determined to 

 give the animal a bout, he whipped out one of his boomerangs and let fly. 



True to its aim, the weapon circled around in air, as though aimed at any point 

 except the one where it was intended to strike, but turned as intended, and landed 

 against the ribs of the hog with a thump which gave out a sound like that of a bass 

 drum. 



It was so violent, indeed, that it jarred him perceptibly, though it inflicted no 

 cut, nor was it meant to. The boar never stopped, but glanced around, as if to 

 determine the point whence the blow came. He did not diminish his speed, acting 

 as if he would like to suggest to the hunter to try something better if he hoped to 

 annoy him. 



Pongo now urged his horse, and he broke into a gallop. Before the intervening 

 distance was much lessened, the boar also increased his pace. 



He did not gallop, but trotted with astonishing swiftness, and with the smooth- 



