There were other wounds on the boar’s body. The first, caused by the boy’s shot, showed a bloody furrow just over the eye; the blow had been too weak to crush the frontal bone. The second came from Sir John’s first shot; it had caught the animal diagonally and grazed his breast. The third, fired at close quarters, went through the body; but, as Roland had said, not until after the animal was dead.
CHAPTER XIV. AN UNPLEASANT COMMISSION
The hunt was over, darkness was falling, and it was now a question of returning to the château. The horses were nearby; they could hear them neighing impatiently. They seemed to be asking if their courage was so doubted that they were not allowed to share in the exciting drama.
Edouard was bent upon dragging the boar after them, fastening it to the saddle-bow, and so carrying it back to the château; but Roland pointed out that it was simpler to send a couple of men for it with a barrow. Sir John being of the same opinion, Edouard—who never ceased pointing to the wound in the head, and saying, “That’s my shot; that’s where I aimed”—Edouard, we say, was forced to yield to the majority. The three hunters soon reached the spot where their horses were tethered, mounted, and in less than ten minutes were at the Château des Noires-Fontaines.
Madame de Montrevel was watching for them on the portico. The poor mother had waited there nearly an hour, trembling lest an accident had befallen one or the other of her sons. The moment Edouard espied her he put his pony to a gallop, shouting from the gate: “Mother, mother! We killed a boar as big as a donkey. I shot him in the head; you’ll see the hole my ball, made; Roland stuck his hunting knife into the boar’s belly up to the hilt, and Sir John fired at him twice. Quick, quick! Send the men for the carcass. Don’t be frightened when you see Roland. He’s all covered with blood—but it’s from the boar, and he hasn’t a scratch.”
This was delivered with Edouard’s accustomed volubility while Madame de Montrevel was crossing the clearing between the portico and the road to open the gate. She intended to take Edouard in her arms, but he jumped from his saddle and flung himself upon her neck. Roland and Sir John came up just then, and Amélie appeared on the portico at the same instant.
Edouard left his mother to worry over Roland, who, covered as he was with blood, looked very terrifying, and rushed to his sister with the tale he had rattled off to his mother. Amélie listened in an abstracted manner that probably hurt Edouard’s vanity, for he dashed off to the kitchen to describe the affair to Michel, who was certain to listen to him.
Michel was indeed interested; but when, after telling him where the carcass lay, Edouard gave him Roland’s order to send a couple of men after the beast, he shook his head.
“What!” demanded Edouard, “are you going to refuse to obey my brother?”