HUNTING WITH DOGS. 153 



move an inch, I whistled to let the latter know 

 that I was coming to the assistance of the brave 

 dogs which he was leaving to their fate. To force 

 my way uphill through those briars was a labour 

 worthy of Hercules ; and if the game should have 

 broken through the dogs, there would have been 

 small chance for the hunter fast meshed in that 

 briary net. When at last I did get a view of the 

 field of battle, so dense were the briars that I could 

 not have swung my arms round where I stood ; 

 and though I stood on tiptoe, all I could discern 

 were the waving sterns of Orla and Lufra, the 

 brave old veteran Zizda being too close to his 

 quarry to be visible ; but from where I stood I 

 could hear his sharp charges and the low snorts 

 of rage which they elicited from the object of his 

 attack. 



Unable to see to shoot, I picked up a clod, and 

 guessing the beast's whereabouts by the low mut- 

 tered thunder that came from the roots of the 

 chestnut, I heaved it over the dogs in the direc- 

 tion of the sound. Then for a moment the briars 

 swayed as if an earthquake had moved them ; one 

 of the dogs yelled as he was rolled over, witli 

 another scar added to his already numerous deco- 

 rations ; and then, not ten paces from me. passing 

 at a gallop went the biggest wild boar I ever hope 

 to see. And I missed him. It is true that I had 

 but a momentary glimpse at him as lie shot across 



