“Yes, perhaps so,” he answered, wiping his damp eyes. “Don’t! don’t! don’t! Let us think of the future: we must not dwell upon the past—indeed we mus’n’t!”
“You are right, dear brother,” I said, at length, recovering myself. “But, Prabu, where is this village?”
“Yonder, my master,” he replied, pointing to a cluster of houses upon another hill in the distance. “But look!” he added; “beware!” and scarcely had we time, I to clutch my pistol, and Martin and Prabu to draw their creeses, when a huge wild boar, which had just come from the wood at the bottom of the hill, came tearing and grunting up the slope, followed by several hunters.
“It is the chief!” cried Prabu, as an old man, spear in hand, and in advance of his party, pursued the animal.
“Let us show him a bold front,” said Martin. And as we prepared to receive him, the hog stood for a minute, as if greatly astonished at meeting with such an unexpected opposition.
“He is taking our measure,” said I, at the same time aiming at the brute.
“Here, move aside,” cried my brother, brandishing his creese; “this is the weapon to tackle master piggy with; he is only grinning at that whipper-snapper pop-gun of yours.”
“That thrust will save us further trouble, Martin,” said I, as the old chief, who had now come within reach of the hog, sent his spear into its side. But not so; the weapon broke short off at the neck-head, and piggy, giving one loud grunt, turned suddenly round, and rushed into a neighboring thicket.
“After him!” shouted my brother; but the old gentleman, in very angry tones, called to us to remain where we were.
“Who are these,” he cried, “sons of burnt mothers, that they should step between Datoo and his game?”