it, which, being fortunately well aimed, hit it behind the ear, and felled it to the earth.
"Capital, Ralph! that's your sort!" cried Peterkin, who, to my surprise and great relief, had risen to his feet. Apparently unhurt, though much dishevelled, he rushed franticly towards the gorge, which the yells of the hogs told us they were now approaching. I had made up my mind that I would abstain from killing another, as, if Peterkin should be successful, two were more than sufficient for our wants at the present time. Suddenly they all burst forth,—two or three little round ones in advance, and an enormous old sow with a drove of hogs at her heels.
"Now, Peterkin," said I, "there's a nice little fat one; just spear it."
But Peterkin did not move; he allowed it to pass unharmed. I looked at him in surprise, and saw that his lips were compressed and his eyebrows knitted, as if he were about to fight with some awful enemy.
"What is it?" I inquired, with some trepidation.
Suddenly he levelled his spear, darted forward, and, with a yell that nearly froze the blood in my veins, stabbed the old sow to the heart. Nay, so vigorously was it done that the spear went in at one side and came out at the other!
"Oh, Peterkin!" said I, going up to him, "what have you done?"
"Done? I've killed their great-great-grandmother, that's all," said he, looking with a somewhat awe-struck expression at the transfixed animal.
"Hallo! what's this?" said Jack, as he came up. "Why, Peterkin, you must be fond of a tough chop. If you mean to eat this old hog, she'll try your Jaws, I warrant. What possessed you to stick her, Peterkin?"
