I seize at a leg and am thrown violently to the ground, getting a kick in the face that sets my nose bleeding. The Maori comes to my aid and gets a hold, and together we are rolled over on the ground.
Alas! we have not between us Old Colonial's knack and activity, nor are we endowed with muscles of such steely fibre. We keep our clutch determinedly, desperately, and we are flung and bumped among the tree-roots and brushwood. The pig is screaming like a hundred railway engines; kicking, plunging, stamping, tearing, twisting from side to side in a vain endeavour to rid herself of us, or to get at us with those formidable jaws; shaking Katipo—a big mastiff-like cur—about, as a cat would shake a mouse. But still we two men hold on to that hind leg of hers, careless of our hurts, prone on our faces, but straining every muscle to keep the grip. Presently we get a chance; together we get our knees upon a log, together we put our backs into the effort, and heave. Over she goes.
Hurrah! On to her at once! Sit on her belly and keep her down! Never mind the kicking legs in the air! Get a hand between the struggling forelegs, gently, along the neck! Now then, out with the ready sheath-knife, and dig it in! There! Right to the heart, till the blood spurts out over us! Hurrah! Good! There's another mother of a family the less!
And now we may take breath for a minute or two, praise old Katipo, and cut off the pig's ears as a trophy. Only for the shortest possible minute, though, for the hunt is going on with headlong haste and hurry. We must be up and off after more pigs, and must rejoin the rest of the scattered party, whose shouts may be heard in various directions; there must be no loitering when pigs are near, for they will not wait, we may be sure.
As we run and scramble on through the scrub, making way upwards along the gully, we pass several dead pigs at intervals, which show that the rest of the boys have been well employed. Presently we come upon the Saint, in the midst of a gloomy thicket of birch, sitting astride of a great dead boar, and employed with his tomahawk in endeavouring to chop out the tusks.
Then Katipo discovers a small family of pigs comfortably stowed away among the dense vegetation of a little marshy hollow. These give the three of us some diversion; we manage to kill two of them, and drive out the remainder upwards through the bush. Following them up hotly for about a mile, Katipo lays hold of one after another, which we turn over and stick as we can, killing two or three more in this way.
But the work is very arduous, and the day is wearing towards noon, and is consequently very hot—March being here equivalent to an English September, but much warmer and drier. We are dripping with sweat, our shirts torn and muddied, blood all over us—both pigs' and our own—and we feel well-nigh exhausted for the time being by the tremendous and violent exertions we have been making.
After the next pig is finally, and with desperate fighting, slaughtered, there seems to be a general tacit advance towards taking a rest. Katipo and another dog that we have picked up have taken to lapping at the creek in the gully, and laying themselves down near the stream, seem inclined for a brief snooze. The two Maoris are hacking at some nikaus, and extracting the pith therefrom; and the Saint and I think it well to do likewise.
After munching away at the refreshing stuff for a considerable while, we guiltily put on our pipes; guiltily, for we know that our earnest leader, Old Colonial, will persevere with unflagging zeal and untiring energy, and will continue the chase without a moment's cessation. Many of the settlers will do the same, though probably but few of the natives, for they have not a fine power of endurance, and it pleases them usually to do things by spurts.
However, we are all the better for the temporary relaxation, and pursue our course with renewed vigour. We have now reached the recesses of the heavy forest, after passing through various gradations of lighter bush. Here and there, on our way, we have come across stretches of open fern-land; but in this district bush is the most prevalent characteristic of the vegetation.