CAHIP SATURDAY 89 



Bang ! Dodo screamed and put her fingers in her 

 ears. Nat looked eagerly, fully expecting to have 

 blown the Deer to bits, but he had not touched it. 



" You shut your eyes tight and fired almost straight 

 up into the sky," laughed Olive, who was quite a clever 

 shot herself. 



"I don't like a gun," said Dodo. "Is there any 

 kind of anything that I could shoot at an animal 

 target, that wouldn't make such a noise ? " 



" A good bow and some arrows are what you need, 

 missy," said her father ; " and I'll make you a beauti- 

 ful, fat pig for a target. Come up to the barn and 

 I'll do it now." 



In a few minutes Mr. Blake had filled a feed bag 

 hard with cut hay, tied up one of the lower corners 

 to make a curly tail, made ears of corn husks, a face 

 of a huge beet, and legs of corn-cobs. 



"Now, Dodo, I'll put this in a nice place against 

 the stone fence, where it can't fall over if it gets 

 tired of standing, and j-ou may shoot to your heart's 

 content. You can play that it is a Peccary, — the wild 

 American cousin of Sausage and all other farm pigs." 



" Are there any about here ? " 



" Oh, no ; fortunately for us, they live now in small 

 herds down on the southeast plains of Texas and west- 

 ward along the Mexican border, for they are ugly, 

 savage, slab-sided little wild pigs, with a light collar 

 around the neck like a rope mark, sly, keen eyes, and 

 a pair of small tusks sharp enough to cut a man's leg 

 in the thickest part, or rip the throat of any poor dog 

 who is forced to hunt them. Once they were plenti- 

 ful enough to be of value for their hides and bristles, 



