This was followed by a sharp squeal, but the undulation of the grass did not cease, and from their position high up the two lads caught sight from time to time of the blackish-brown backs of three or four good-sized pigs.
"We hit one," cried Harry excitedly. "Send Sul on. It must be lying dead."
"No, Sahib," said Sree. "You hit one, but they have all gone off."
"How do you know? Perhaps one is lying there in the long grass."
"No, Sahib," said the man; "you would have seen it struggling, and heard its shrieks. A pig makes much noise. But I saw the one hit, and it only gave a jump. You both fired the wrong barrels."
"What!" cried Phra, examining his gun, with Harry following suit.
"The right barrels are for shot, the left barrels for ball," said Sree quietly. "Those shot would kill a peacock, but only tickle the thick skin of a wild pig."
"How stupid!" said Harry. "I never thought of that. Here, load again."
He handed his gun to the hunter, and took up another from the hooks inside the howdah, while Sul went on, muttering to himself, but there appeared from the sound to be more satisfaction in his remarks at the efforts made, though there had been no result.
So comical was all this that the boys laughed heartily, and there was a grim smile on Sree's countenance.