Foam—A Razor-Backed Hog 
Boar’s broad back, all bristle-clad, received the 
blows; they staggered but did not down him, and 
his white knives flashed with upward slash, the 
stroke that seeks the vitals where they are least 
ingirt with proof. The champions reeled apart. 
The Boar was bruised, but the Bear had half a 
dozen bleeding rips. Great sighs, or sobs, or heavy 
breathings there were from these, but from the ‘ 
crowded younglings just behind, a very chorus of 
commingled fear and wrath. 
This was the first, the blooding of the fight, and 
now they faced and swung this way and that. 
Each knew or seemed to know the other’s game. 
The Boar must keep his feet or he was lost, the Bear 
must throw the Boar and get a death grip with his 
paws ere with his hinder feet he could tear him 
open. The battle madness was on both. 
Circling for a better chance went Kogar’s, con- 
fronted still by the Boar. Again they closed, and 
the Bear, flinging all his bulk on Foam, would have 
thrown him by his weight, but the Boar was stout 
and rip-ripped at the soggy belly, till the Bear 
flinched, curled, and shrank in pain. Again and 
again they faced, sparring for an opening. The 
Bear felt safer on the log. On that he stood, and 
strode and feinted a charge, till Foam, impatient 
for the finish, forward rushed. The log was in the 
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