“I am willing to take charge of your pigs,” he said, in a quiet tone; “where do they feed?”
“A goodish bit from here. Not far from the Hot Swamp, that lies on the other side of the hill.”
The man pointed to a high ridge, just visible beyond the gully in which his hut lay concealed, which was clothed from base to summit with dense forest.
“There are plenty of pigs there,” he continued in a milder tone. “How many I don’t know, and don’t care. I brought the old ones here, and they have multiplied. If you choose to keep them together, you are welcome. I want only a few of them now and then. When I do, I hunt them together and drive them with my dogs. You may kill and eat of them as you please; but don’t come nigh my hut, mind you, else will I put an arrow in your heart.”
“Good, I will take care,” returned the prince gravely. “And if you come nigh my dwelling, is it understood that I am to put an arrow in your heart? I could easily do it, for I am a fair marksman.”
Something approaching almost to a smile crossed the hunter’s swart visage at this reply. It did not last, however.
“Go!” he said. “Keep your jesting for the pigs, if they have a mind to listen.”
“I will try them. Mayhap they are more sociable than their owner. And now, master, might I ask for the loan of one of your dogs? It might be useful in herding.”
“None of them would follow you. Yet—yes, the pup might do so. It has not yet come to care for me much.”
So saying, the man went to the rear of his hut, and, from the kennel there, fetched a young but full-grown dog, somewhat resembling a retriever, which gambolled joyously at the prospect of being let out for a run.