"A band of peccaries was pursuing us."
A noise like the gallop of a troop of horses seemed to shake the ground. A band of peccaries was pursuing us; and as my two companions halted to fire, I succeeded in gaining the raft, on which I placed Lucien. The peccaries, about a hundred in number, rushed on in a furious crowd. Sumichrast, who was closely pressed by them, leaped upon the frail bark, almost capsizing it, while l'Encuerado ran along the shore.
"Cut the mooring and push off!" he cried out to me as he disappeared in the jungle.
Some of the peccaries rushed after the Indian; the others, chasing and hustling one another, deafened us with their gruntings. I cut the mooring-line; and, seizing hold of the boat-hook, directed the raft towards the right bank, whence the uproar seemed to proceed.
"Hiou! hiou! Chanito!"
"Ohé! ohé!" I answered.
I was just going to spring off, when the Indian came in sight, followed by Gringalet, and plunged into the water, holding his gun above his head.
L'Encuerado, instead of coming to us on the raft, turned towards a peccary which in its eagerness had fallen into the water and was endeavoring to reach the bank. He seized it by an ear and dragged it towards the raft, assisted by Gringalet, who swam, barking, behind, and biting it when opportunity offered.
"Fire your gun at this poor wretch's head," called l'Encuerado to Sumichrast.