Foam—A Razor-Backed Hog 
may try our mettle if we will. Some memory of 
his youth came back on him as Prunty with Li- 
zette held eager harkening to the chase. How 
clear and close it sounded, and when the baying 
centred at one spot Old Prunty was like a boy, and, 
rushing as he should not at his age, he stumbled, 
slid, and fell, giving himself a heavy shock, and 
hurting his ankle so badly that he sat down on 
a log and railed in local language at his luck. 
The baying of the hounds kept on. He tried to 
walk, then realizing his helplessness, he exclaimed: 
“Here, Lizette, you hurry down to Bogue and tell 
him to hold back for me as long as he can. T’ll 
follow slowly. You better carry the gun.” 
So Lizette set off alone, guided only by the 
clamor of the hounds. For twenty minutes it 
was her sufficient guide, then it seemed to die 
away. Then there were a few yelps and silence. 
Still she kept on, and, hearing nothing, she gave 
a long shout that Bogue up the tree did not hear; 
so she tried another means, her whistle, and judg- 
ing that the other hunter was coming to his rescue, 
Bogue shouted many things that she could not 
understand. 
Then, seeking guidance from his voice, and 
offering guidance to her father, she whistled again 
and again. It reached them both, but it also 
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