But without waiting to hear anything further, I was off, and soon reached my post. The sport, as usual, was pretty good; my friends and myself killed four couple of woodcocks, and the affût over, we turned our steps towards the banker's cabin. No report of a gun had yet been heard in his direction, but suddenly, and when we were scarcely five hundred paces from the hut, and I was on the point of announcing our arrival by a shrill whistle—two barrels were discharged one after the other—then followed a long and heavy groan, and after that a cry of distress. In a few seconds we bounded to the spot, and found our friend stretched on the grass outside his hut, without his hat, his eyes staring wildly about him, and his hair in disorder. He was trembling with emotion, and pointed to a black animal, half hid in the water and the rushes, which seemed very large, and was rolling from side to side in the agonies of approaching death. Fright, downright fright, had tied the banker's tongue; and while he is collecting his senses, allow me to tell you, good reader, what had occurred in our absence.
Dumb and motionless, as directed, he had, during half an hour, waited anxiously for the woodcocks; but the woodcocks had for a very long time forgotten the road to this Mare; not one came—there was no sport for him. He had already fancied he heard us returning in the distance, and that his cramped legs would be set at liberty, and his twisted body again assume the perpendicular, when all at once a cold perspiration stood upon his brow, terror seized him; for behind, nay, almost close to him, he heard advancing the heavy tramp and loud breathing of a wild beast, and before he had time to observe what kind of an animal it was, the brute passed so close to the hut that he pressed it down, and rushed on to the Mare. More dead than alive, the banker lay half-squeezed in a corner of his cabin, and panting for breath, dared scarcely move. After a few minutes, however, he hazarded a careful glance outside, and not twenty paces from him saw the immense quadruped bathing, and rolling himself quietly in the water.
"It is a gigantic boar," said he to himself, "as large as a horse, and as old as Methuselah—no doubt the patriarch of the forest—what tusks he must have! Let us observe." And with a courage which did him credit, he, after some time, suppressed his fear, and felt in the pocket of his game-bag for two balls, which, with trembling hands, he slipped into his gun. After this he again looked out, and reconnoitred the movements of the enemy; but so great was the obscurity, that he could discover nothing—unless, indeed, it was a dark mass which walked and jumped hither and thither, rolled, frolicked, and rejoiced in his refreshing bath. The heart of the Parisian was greatly agitated, and beat as if it would split his flannel waistcoat; nevertheless, he took good and deliberate aim at the black object in front, and though exceedingly terrified, he cocked his gun, and in a perfect fever of excitement let fly both barrels, falling immediately backwards in a corner of his hut, perfectly bewildered with his own courage. A deep groan followed, and at the end of a few minutes of agony and suspense, our friend, seeing no tiger in the act of springing upon him, hazarded another look, when he still heard the creature moaning, and groaning, and floundering in the water.
The fact was, he had by a miracle, and without seeing, done that which he never could have done at mid-day,—his two balls had perforated the animal's head and neck. Observing the monster raising itself with difficulty, and endeavouring to withdraw its legs from the sticky mud in which they were fixed, the courage of despair rushed into his heart—he left the hut, upsetting everything in his way, and precipitated himself upon his adversary with a view of despatching him with the butt end of his gun, or making him retreat further into the Mare, when imagine his consternation and fear,—at the very moment his uplifted arm was stretched out, like Jupiter's in the act of hurling a thunderbolt, the animal raised himself on his haunches, looked him full in the face, opened two enormous jaws, put up two very long ears, and instead of a roar full of rage and ferocity, sent forth the most agonizing and dolorous bray that was ever heard from the throat of any ass, French, English, or Spanish! Yes! it was an ass the banker had mortally wounded; an unfortunate ass, which, driven by thirst and the heat of the weather, had left his shed at the neighbouring farm-house, to quench it and refresh himself with a bath.
Surprise, shame, horror, and confusion began to dance a polka in the banker's brain, and made him utter the hoarse cry which we had heard. While we were yet gazing at each other the poor creature, by a last effort, raised his bleeding head once more above the water, and collecting all the strength he had left, scrambled from the Mare, gave a half-suffocating and plaintive bray, and casting a look full of reproach upon the gasping banker, which seemed to say, "I die, but I forgive you," fell dead at our feet.
A convulsion of laughter from the party, now all assembled, followed; even the birds, awakened from their slumbers, began to sing and partake of the general hilarity.
"Halloo! Mr. Three per Cent.," said one, "this is what you call sporting, is it—killing starved woodcocks? Fie! sir."
"You are three infamous vagabonds," replied the Parisian, catching his breath, and picking up his hat.
"What! sir."
"Why, you are a trinity of rascals, I repeat."