He looked up and saw the returning guard. The pig saw him, too, and as if inspired by a sudden fear, he gave a startled grunt and darted swiftly up the road.
“Here, sir, help me catch the pig!� shouted the guard, starting swiftly in pursuit of the runaway. “He’s the last on the place.�
John needed no second invitation, and in a moment he and the guard were following the pig, which was running as if he knew his life was in danger. The soldiers rushed from their tents, and stood laughing and cheering the pursuers. To them it was a comedy to see the sentry and the prisoner striving to catch one poor, little half-starved pig; but to John the pursuit had all the elements of a tragedy. Life or death lay in the outcome for him.
He flung aside his hat and coat, and put forth all his strength. Dripping with perspiration, streaked with dust, almost breathless he sped on and on. Once he came close upon the frightened pig, but he took good care to fall upon him in such a manner that the little “porker� only emitted a terrified squeal and redoubled his speed.
“Hold! hold!� shouted the guard, who was behind now. “Let him go. We can’t catch him!�
John glanced quickly back, and saw that he was out of the range of the soldiers’ muskets. His speed increased as he realized that the supreme moment had come at last. Only the gun of the guard was to be feared now.
“Halt!� shouted the guard again. “Stop, or I shoot!�
John only drew his head down between his shoulders. His heart almost ceased to beat. The report of the gun rang out, and he almost fell to the ground as he heard the bullet whistle over his head.
A few days afterward, when he was with his father in Sumter’s army near Camden, just before the terrible battle, and for the second time had been relating the story of his escape, he added, “That little porker did a double duty. He saved his bacon, and he saved mine, too.�