Foam—A Razor-Backed Hog 
dest medley, and so strong it must be the voice of 
some great forest creature. 
Foam was on his feet in a heart-beat, and stock- 
still there for ten. Now nosing like a pointer with 
ears acock, with every sense at strain, he crept 
forward like one spell-drawn. 
Slowly back to the rich bottomland the weird 
sounds led, and then peering through the wire 
grass he saw his ancient foe, rooting up, crunching, 
swallowing one after another those terrible burn- 
ing roots, the white round roots that sting, that 
tear your very throat, that gripe your bowels, 
that wring the cheeks with torture like the brands 
that men leave in the smoking summer land. 
Yet on he kept digging, munching, weeping, 
wailing—digging another, munching it as the 
tears rolled from his eyes, and the burning pain 
scorched his slobbering jaws. And still another 
did that great black monster dig and mouth, and 
wept and wailed as he did so, and another and an- 
other was crowded down his sobbing throat. 
Was he insane? Far fromit. Was he starving? 
Not so; the ground was thick with nuts. Then 
why this dreadful, self-inflicted painP Who was 
his master that could order it? Foam had no 
thoughts about it. The Bear himself could have 
told you nothing. And yet he was yielding to an 
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