98 MODERN PIG-STICKING 



in close pursuit. Possibly he is a good boar ; for 

 the cunning old stagers sometimes sneak off at once, 

 though more often they wait to the bitter end. 



Now is our turn, for, as we watch, a sounder have 

 crept out under our noses, crossed the stream, and 

 gone away on the maidan. We run to our horses, 

 trot quietly over the ford, line up, and then away 

 we race with the one boar of the sounder jogging 

 some three hundred yards ahead. We have short- 

 ened the distance to half before he grasps the 

 situation. With one turn of his wicked old head 

 he, too, is in full stride. But he has left it too 

 late, and we collar him some two hundred yards 

 from his point, the heavy grass. We are all nearly 

 abreast. With a sharp jink the boar avoids the 

 leading horseman, and, turning sharp right, crosses 

 S's near fore and brings him down. Hog, horse, 

 and man fly headlong. When the dust clears we 

 see S pinned under his horse, who is lying, knocked 

 out, tail on to the pig. The pig is standing looking 

 at them both, shaking his head, bewildered and 

 angry, and things look awkward for S. P is near 

 S's horse's head, and sees that the only thing is to 

 jump off, and run to help on foot. This he does 

 with his customary quickness ; but the hog with one 

 glance at his fallen foe, disdains him, and seeing 

 me coming up on the right, charges home. Neither 

 horse nor hog flinch. The spear goes deep into 

 his back, and the tough shaft breaks like splintered 

 matchwood. But the fight is not over, for the 

 gallant half-paralyzed beast cuts again and again 

 at P before he falls with a sob, dead, on his side. 

 S's horse is lame, and his own leg badly swollen, 

 but he can hunt. We fix him up, and go back to 

 our knoll. 



