Kearton straightened up above the machine and waved his helmet frantically.
"Give over, give over!" he shouted.
"You're driving him right into the picture. It's no good. Give over!"
The chase never swerved an inch, and Kearton bent to his work again, cursing in well-selected periods.
The next moment the hog drove past him. At the same instant Loveless threw his rope and caught the beast by one hind leg. The black horse stopped, fore feet planted firmly, and the dust cloud swept across and hid the scene.
When the dust cleared away, the hog was lying across the road, blowing comfortably, with the rope leading from his hind leg to the horn of Loveless' saddle. Loveless laughed.
"There's the first one for you," he said. "And my, can't he run!"
Gobbet, however, was indignant. "It's no use," he complained. "To bring an object that way straight into the lens is against the first principles of cinematography. It's no use, I tell you."
Means sat half slumped in his saddle, with his reeking horse panting heavily.
"Well, well, well," he finally drawled. "And didn't Mr. Pig come a-bending across that prairie? He most certainly come a-bending."