186 A TEXAN HUNTER'S STORY. 



A short time after this adventure I embarked at Gal- 

 veston, on my return to New Orleans, and from thence 

 to the Northern States. In the evening, in the cabin of 

 the Star of the West steamer, a pioneer from Western 

 Texas, who, with his friends, was seated round a table 

 loaded with glasses of " brandy punch," related a story of 

 peccary-hunting, which, I think, will interest the reader, 

 and which, therefore, I shall here reproduce exactly as 

 he told it. 



" I was staying," said the Texan hunter, " with one of 

 my friends, a farmer at Trinity Swamp. You know that 

 we planters are passionately fond of hunting ; so my friend 

 and I spent all our days rifle in hand. One morning, 

 when I was walking alone on the threshold of a wood, I 

 fell in with a herd of peccaries. I was ignorant then of 

 the vindictive temper of these accursed wild swine ; so I 

 imprudently fired at one of them, and killed him. Imme- 

 diately the rest of the troop rushed upon me, and attacked 

 me with their tusks. I had much ado to defend myself 

 with the aid of the butt of my carbine, and as soon as 

 one old fellow rolled on the ground, another took his 

 place. "Weary of the struggle, I sprang towards the 

 trunk of a tree, and catching hold of one of its branches, 

 hauled myself up to a forked bough about seventeen or 

 eighteen feet from the ground. 



" Here I found myself, I confess, in a very painful 

 position. One hour, two hours, three hours passed ; no 

 help arrived. My terrible besiegers surrounded the tree, 

 where I was perched like St. Simeon Stylites on his 

 column, and did not appear to have any intention of re- 

 tiring. Suddenly an idea passed through my head : Per- 

 haps my friend is looking about for me, I said to myself; 



