Foam—A Razor-Backed Hog 
The hunter kept on his examination of the trail. 
He was a shiftless old vagabond, useless for steady 
work, and a devotee of the demijohn, but he cer- 
tainly knew his business as a tracker. He an- 
nounced, “Just a regulation ole Razor-back family, 
a long-legged sow, a hatchin’ o’ grunters, and a 
Boar as big as a chicken house.” 
The fence was little more than a moral effect. 
Conscientious cows and incompetent ducks it 
might keep out, but to a Razor-back it was prac- 
tically an invitation to attempt and enjoy. Some 
such thought was in Lizette’s mind when she said, 
“Daddy, why can’t we make a real fence, and a 
strong one that no pig could break through? It 
would be easy around three acres.” 
“Who'll pay for it?” said Prunty. “An’ what’s 
the use of a Razor-back anyway? They’re no 
good.” 
“Wall,” said the great man who was now com- 
bining Napoleon, Nimrod, and Sherlock Holmes, 
“didn’t ye hear about the three little kids at Coe’s 
school struck by a rattler and all died this week, 
the hull three of ’em? Rattlers is getting mighty 
thick up thet-a-way. Folks says it’s all cause they 
cleaned out the Razor-backs, and I guess that’s the 
answer all right.” 
Then Napoleon Nimrod Holmes Bogue began 
69 
