It was interesting to watch the hog. He was irresolute and then aggressive; he lunged outward and then tumbled backward. As the giant lizard reeled upward and then poured forward, the bristling pig would run in, and then “sidestep,” as Hopkins said. The ultimate object of both combatants became increasingly clear; the saurian aimed at crashing down on the pig, and the pig relying on its sharp incisors intended to rip open the defenceless abdomen of its foe. Again and again with shifting success they attempted their invariable coups, and again and again recoiled, frustrated in their design.
The fight passed through one episode of some novelty. The saurian in flinging itself forward lost its balance, and, as it were, stumbled to the ground. We saw its eyes then, queer turgid, opal masses, lit internally with fire. In a trice the pig leaped upon its back, stamping and tearing, but, in another trice, the effort seemed incalculable, the huge tail of the snake lizard swept around and bowled the discomfited porker sideways with a swishing blow that knocked it down. Then for a moment it seemed as if the coiling ribbon would enclose the pig, when, held in its crushing vise, the lizard might dissect its victim at leisure. But the pig squirmed out of the trap, and, nothing daunted, resumed its defence with less obvious pugnacity. Except for its monstrous spectacular features the conflict grew monotonous. And here came the end.
Nature was exhausted; an unguarded moment of inattention and, like the black pounce of the eagle, the ponderous head of the lizard fell on the pig, the scimitar teeth cut into hide and bone. A snarling roar, an infuriated lacerating drive by the boar, and, though he sank sideways in a death agony, his tusks had torn open the belly of his conqueror. The viscera emptied from their enclosure, an abominable odor assailed us, and the great bulk of the amphibian lapsed to the ground, its inverted head, caught in the chancery of its body, broke its neck, and with a husky frightening exhalation, like a magnified hiss, it fell in convulsions. The pig was already dead.
Just then none of us were inclined to pursue any investigations. We were all absolutely silent, and all went back to our little camp in a state of mental consternation. The Professor had no theories to propose, nor had Hopkins any comments. As for Goritz, he mechanically brought out the gold belt, and as I bent over him and noticed its relievos, I felt convinced that its designer and artificer had seen the saurian.
But something more awful occurred about three hours afterwards, when, as we observed, the smell from the battlefield became more and more intolerable. The waters of the lake were furrowed with approaching objects, exposed heads rose upon the shore, shuffling and waddling and scrambling creatures proceeded up the bank, and the entangled bodies of the great lizard and the pig were soon being torn to pieces, in the clapping jaws of the former’s brethren, as they rustled and scraped against each other in their envious greed in what, by our reckoning, was their nocturnal banquet.
Soon, however, I fell asleep again; a feverish sleep it was and I welcomed my awakening. It must have been hours later, the lake was calm and beautiful to see in the mysterious light, and it was the cheerful, heart-inspiring voice of Hopkins that half restored my normal gaiety. He was helping the Professor at what in its serial position was our breakfast, and he prattled to his benignant comrade:
“‘We were amphibians, scaled and tailed,
And drab as a dead man’s hand;
We coiled at ease ’neath the dripping trees
Or trailed through the mud and sand.