'Exactly, lad; and if I'm not much mistaken they've had a big fight amongst themselves hereabouts.'
'Let us try to shoot some of them, Readyman.'
'I'd like to, my son, but don't forget that the boars are always savage, and regular demons to fight. Let me go first.'
In silence, and with great caution against sudden attack by cannibals, both friends continued to follow the track that led them deeper and deeper into the forest. The light still remained fairly good, while the track held an upward course. At last they came suddenly on a great wall of rock rising almost perpendicularly before them. At the same moment Readyman pulled up so abruptly that Jack, walking close behind, stumbled against him.
Without speaking the quarter-master pointed toward a spot at the base of the cliff, and following the direction Jack immediately perceived a large number of small pigs fast asleep in their comfortable quarters, apparently unaware of impending danger.
'Stand behind a tree, and take your choice of a good fat one,' Readyman whispered. 'Mind you don't waste a shot. I'll get under cover also, and see if we can bring home a couple of good porkers. Should you see a boar look wild, mind you get out of his road as quickly as possible. If I'm attacked, I'll shin up one of the trees.'
Each sportsman took his chosen position. The happily snoring pigs never stirred until suddenly a stronger whiff of wind from Jack's direction set a savage-looking but somewhat diminutive boar on its feet. A sharp squeal of warning aroused the rest of the animals. The boar snorted angrily, and with head bent close to the ground flew directly toward the tree behind which Jack stood, with rifle ready to let fly as soon as he felt certain of hitting the animal. All that while some thirty or forty pigs of various sizes and ages stood motionless, awaiting the result of their leader's onslaught.
From behind one tree a deafening noise arose, a cloud of smoke partly obscured the outlook, but before it had time to clear off a similar noise came from another tree. One of their fattest and most cheery comrades lay stiff in their midst, while the leader, in whom the utmost confidence had always been placed, limped badly on three legs, and from another blood flowed. Nevertheless, he was still full of fight, and made desperate attempts to inflict serious if not fatal injuries on Jack Clewlin. Round the foot of the tree Jack dodged his deadly foe, and on one occasion he got in a stunning blow of the rifle stock on the hard head of the boar. The next moment he was beyond reach of the sharp and gleaming tusks, which would have ripped up his leg like paper; but the gun had been dropped.
All that while Readyman was waiting his opportunity to deal a fatal blow, and when he fired the infuriated pig dropped dead without a squeal.
'Climb down, my son,' the quarter-master whispered. 'You got well out of that scrape. Let us have another shot at the crowd before they clear out.'