210 A MONTH IN THE FORESTS OF FRANCE. 



and I knew by his ceasing from all noise that 

 he too was interested. When the cry was within 

 eighty yards of me, " Wow, wow, wow," went old 

 Papajow, as if in view of the boar, forty yards ahead, 

 and a hundred yards wide of, the other hounds, and 

 between them and me, and coming down flinging his 

 eagerly sounding tongue right along the little path in 

 the wood that came out on the expected pass. A 

 thought then perplexed me — I heard the cry of the 

 pack turn slightly from old Papajow's line to their 

 right, inclining more behind me, and for a second I 

 scarce knew what to think. Had Papajow skirted 

 to a view ? or had he, as usual, flung his tongue 

 without either scent or view, in a sort of tremulous 

 anticipation or terror of the approximation of the 

 boar ? Intelligent Coco's sudden start, however, 

 soon elucidated the matter, and, facing right about, 

 I beheld the boar charging into the wide open field a 

 hundred and fifty yards the other side of my horse 

 and in rear of me, and kicking up the dirt behind 

 him, as he thundered at the pace of a racehorse down 

 into the little valley. 



With a longing sigh for my rifle, I took the most 

 deliberate aim with my shot-gun, and fired both 

 barrels left and right, loaded with ball, as I conceived, 

 just sufficiently in front of the lower portion of the 



