[CHAPTER III]
Boars and keepers—The bullet of Robin-des-Bois—The pork-butcher.
The Sunday rendezvous was settled to take place at St. Hubert, one of the most often used meeting-places, and also one of the most beautiful places in the forest.
M. Deviolaine and I arrived punctually to the minute; but my brother-in-law, being away travelling, had not been able to come.
Everybody else turned up at the rendezvous with the most exemplary punctuality. Three beasts had been beaten up,—two youngsters and a wild sow.
Of course not a single keeper failed to ask Bobino for news of his boar; but he had heard nothing about the matter, and he had the good sense still to wear its tail from his button-hole.
We had three boars to tackle. One came from Berthelin's preserve, and the others from Choron's and Moinat's.
We began on the nearest, which was one of the youngsters; it was routed out by Berthelin, but before it got through the ring Mildet killed it by putting a bullet right through its heart at a distance of fifty paces.