their tongues out, but every few rods. would fling their heads back as if to turn on their pursuer; then at sight of him they would give an apparently dying screech and flee forward again.

'Scroonch up to that poplar,' called Snead, 'an' they'll pass us.' The poplar was an immense one, five feet through at the butt, and was only three or four yards from us; but we had barely time to cross the distance and crowd against the tree before the wild runners flew by. I felt that the earth must be moving; that the whole mountain was a penumbration of that black, vaulting body; the air ought to bleed, torn by those merciless tusks.

They passed out of sight, to our left; and very soon, on our right, we saw Sam. His shoes were ripped open, and his overalls, in strips from his knees down, revealed legs and ankles scratched and bloody. In his hard-set face I scarcely recognized the softly placating features of Sam. As he passed us he was muttering something about old Drum. 'Ef ol' Drum'll ever git here!' A few minutes later Len and Ted

came up.

'Where's Burl?' asked granpap. 'Back yander, tendin' that no 'count dog o' hisn.'

They hurried on, and Len called over his shoulder, 'Come on, pap, with yer rope. I hear Ben an' ol' Drum. We'll git him now.'

We listened, and a long, deep, freshsounding bay echoed through the woods. Granpap grabbed his rope, dropping his lameness and twenty years of his age. 'Smoke yer heels, boys,' he said; and like boys we followed. 'He's bayed agin,' said granpap, as we neared a discord of indescribable sounds. Soon we saw the boar, on top of a lichen-covered boulder, sitting on his haunches, his eyes, like two little black stars, pouring vitriol that ought to have made the

forest crumple. The rock itself, with its green, black, and creamy spots and vein-like roots climbing over it, seemed a part of the creature's body, making a monster as superior to attack as granite, as formidable as if Nature had condensed her forces into his resisting form. The yapping dogs at the base of the rock, and the men with their ceaseless 'sic, sic,' were as negligible as squeaking gnats.

Sam was the only one with any apparent dignity. He had yielded to fatigue, and lay motionless on the ground, probably forty feet from me and an equal distance from the group about the rock.

A long musical sound came from old Drum. It was not loud, but of a sure timbre that made the woods quiver. The boar threw up his head and his sides thumped. From my safe distance I fancied a trembling among all the little ruffled scales of the lichens. Suddenly Ben's young voice called out from somewhere above the rock, 'Go it, Drum, sic 'im, sic 'im!' and Drum's huge yellow body vaulted from the slope to the upper edge of the boulder. At that instant the boar shot into the air, curved downward, and struck the ground near the men, scattering them to cover. He rolled for a second, like a knotted ball, then found his four feet properly under him and made straight for Sam.

For a second I felt blinded by a swirling black cloud, then stood clearsighted in a small but painfully vivid human world. Nature with her everlasting forces retreated and consciousness was trivially reabsorbed in the by-product, humanity. I could even see Coretta, a pale widow, in the country store with a basket of eggs, insisting on an exchange of black percale; and myself distractedly guiding the destinies of her fatherless young.

But Sam was quicker than the boar.

With one motion he leaped three feet from the ground, and with arms abnormally long seized the limb of a tree that stretched above him, drawing his body up accordion-fashion and hanging there like a half-opened jackknife. The boar dashed under him and on toward me. I resigned life resentfully. My passion for union with earth was spent. There was nothing but ignominy in being trampled into the ground and muddily tusked.

Drum saved me. I saw him at the boar's side trying to reach his ear. The boar whirled in defense, and Len cried, 'Run, God A'mighty, run!' I supposed he meant me, but I could n't move. I had to see whether Drum got that ear or not. My arm was grabbed and I was viciously shaken. 'Ain't you got a bit o' sense?' That did n't seem to matter, but when I had been pulled to safety I managed to say, 'Thank you, Len, I guess I'll faint.' Which I did, but it was not a desperate lapse. I was up in a few minutes, watching the game between Drum and the boar, and commenting on it in a very small voice.

It was worth seeing. Drum clearly understood his difficulty. He was to get his teeth into the boar's ear and keep his own body safely guarded from the tossing tusks. They shuttled back and forth, for every time that Drum was near getting a hold the boar would whirl in an effort to drive his tusk into the dog, and this would cause a faceabout for both of them. I did not see how the game of wits and muscle could end except by the exhaustion of one or the other; and the boar was doubtless using his last strength. It seemed shockingly unfair for Drum to come so fresh to the contest.

'Be right still; be right still,' Len would say, though nobody needed the adjuration, all being tense and motionless.

'Drum's gittin' him winded. He'll land in a minute. Be right still.'

I understood what he meant by 'landing' when Drum finally sailed upward and dropped down on the boar's back just behind his ears.

'He's got him!' shouted Sam. 'Git yer sticks, ever'body. I'll grab his leg. Y'all be ready to come in, er he'll tear me up ef Drum's holt breaks.'

But this time Drum held on, and the boar spun round and round helplessly. It seemed death to approach him, but Sam got behind a rock, lay down, and reached out a long arm, ready to grab a flying hind leg if it should come near.

'Len, you an' pap git the noose over his nose. Where's that Burl? Let him an' Ben hold my legs.' But Burl called from a prudent distance, 'He ain't winded yit. You'd all better keep out.'

'Dern yer white skin,' said Sam, 'git back to yer dry-goods box in Asheville. Ben, you an' Ted ketch holt o' my legs.' They obeyed, bracing their feet against the rock, getting ready, it appeared, to pull Sam in two. Len, holding a big club, took the dangerous position of granpap's guard in his attempts to noose the boar. Snead was to tie another rope about the leg if Sam succeeded in grabbing it.

There was a ragged throaty shout. Sam had him. Snead, too reckless, rushed in on the wrong side and had to rush out again.

"Tie him, kain't you?' puffed Sam. 'I ain't no snake, I kain't live in two pieces!' Snead made another rush and got the rope securely tied. This freed Sam, who made a grab for the other hapless hind leg of the boar, and the two were then made fast together. The animal, crazed by the outrage, tossed his tusks in a last desperation, and Drum's hold broke. The dog was thrown ten feet, just as granpap, by a miraculous move, got the noose around the boar's nose above his tusks.

'Pap's done it!' cried Len. And 'Pap's got him!' echoed Sam. 'Me fer

granpap!' shouted Ben. 'Smart fer ol' bones,' said Snead; and 'Hurrah, granpap!' said I, to be with the tide.

'I could n't'a' beat it,' said Burl, and Len turned on him. 'Ef you want to marry my girl, you'll have to carry a better gun'n I do.'

Burl, backing off.

'When Hell cools butter,' said Len. 'Shet yer mouth ef you can do it with those tight breeches on.' Then his angry spurt was over. 'You goin' to he'p carry this thing in home?"

Burl came trippingly forward and looked at the boar. Forefeet and back were tied, and a long pole thrust under them. Safely trussed, but the tusks looked alive. 'I'll he'p at his hind feet,' said Burl, and laughter rolled over him. 'You walk ahead to keep the bears an' Injuns off us,' said Len. 'Ben, you an' Sam git aholt the hind end o' that pole. Me an' Ted'll take the front.'

They took off their jackets and, doubling them up, placed them between their shoulders and the pole.

'Won't it hurt him?' I asked, as they swung their load.

'Hurt that feller? I jest wish we could,' said Sam.

I remembered that the creature was revenue and hardened my heart. We would get twenty-five dollars, at least, for him, half of which would be mine, the other half going to Sam and Len.

As it was easier to keep around the side of the hill with their heavy load, and come into the trail lower down, I said that I would go up to the ridge and get Serena. I should be glad to be out of sight of the pathetic monster swinging in torture from the pole.

I got up the hill, and at some distance caught sight of Serena's fire. She was placidly singing, in utter detachment from little Ross, who was 'playing horse' up and down the ridge. The song was her favorite ballad about the

'Serena,' said I gently, 'would n't you just as soon say "pierced" as "percht"?'

'That would n't be doin' right by granmommie. She always sung it thata-way, an' she was a hundred and three when she died, an' died in her cheer. She knowed what she's about to the last minute. She sung it "percht," an' I would n't change it noways. My,· but you look like you'd been beehuntin' in a locus' patch!'

'I've had a good time, Serena.'

'So've I,' she said, getting up. 'An' I did n't resk my life fer it nuther.'

We were to meet the men at the place where the spotted sow lay tied. Serena and I arrived first by a few minutes, as the men traveled slowly

with their burden, and stopped frequently to 'change the bone.' We found the sow quiet and sullen. There was only the one pig with her.

'We must find the other pigs,' I said to the men, when they came up blowing and put their load down.

'We kain't do that. It's turnin' colder, an' it'll be night now 'fore we git in home with this chap.'

rope at the last minute?' said Sam. 'It wuz a good rope too. There wuz n't a weak spot in it.'

'I reckon it wuz a good rope,' complained Len. "That young-un got holt o' my plough-lines. I would n't 'a' give 'em fer that ol' sow.'

'Ain't it a cussin' shame now Mis' Dolly won't git nothin'? Ha'f that sow would 'a' been hern. 'Course the

'Oh, half of 'em'll scratch through alive. Let's go fer water, boys.'

Everybody but myself went round the side of the hill to the spring. I stayed to ponder on the extravagant method of bringing in wild hogs. The thought of those ten or more little black and pink creatures shivering in the woods until starvation released them was more than I could supinely bear. I looked at the rope, and found it tied in what to me was an unalterable knot. But I could cut it by laying it against a rock and rubbing it with the sharp edge of another rock. I found the stones I wanted and set to work, making the rope as ragged as possible. When the stringy ends dropped no one would have suspected that the rope had been cut. The sow rushed off with her little pig following, and they were soon out of sight. Then I found that I too was longing for water, and hurried to the spring. I knew I should find the others lingering, each wanting to get in one more comment on the inexhaustible subject of the capture.

'We'd better git back,' said Len at last. 'Pap, you can drive the sow in. Thanks to gracious, we don't have to carry her.'

It was an angry and bewildered group that paused at the spot where the sow had been tied.

'Dern her sides, wha 'd she mean by layin' here all day an' breakin' the

the throw that tied him.'

It was a moment before I got the full meaning of Sam's words, and when I did my astounded silence seemed to create a slight embarrassment.

'Pap'll give her a part,' said Len, 'ef she wants to take it. Mebbe she did n't 'zackly mean what she told him 'bout havin' what he could ketch. It'll disappint pap, but we ain't goin' to have no hard feelin' 'bout an' ol' b'ar hog.'

'I'm shore glad,' said Sam, 'that she saw pap ketch him, an's got her own eyes fer it. I would n't take a throwedaway dishrag off'n her underhand. Ez fer her not meanin' what she said, her word's as good in the woods as 'tis in the meetin❜house. Ever'body'll tell ye that. "T ain't jest me a-talkin'.'

My inward tumult subsided. There was no profit in rebellion when the elements were against me. I looked at granpap, silent and apart, chewing his bit of dogwood.

'What about it, granpap?'

'What y'all say's good enough fer

me.'

No help there, so I yielded with a gayety that left them slightly puzzled, not understanding the lubricant value of a good laugh at one's self.

"The victory is yours, granpap. Let's get him home.'

There was a buzz of spirited talk, all to show granpap that he was to be congratulated. When we started again Snead proposed going by Abe Siler's.

'He'll buy that feller right off the pole, an' we'll save time by drappin' him there. Abe's wantin' to git a hog to pen right now, an' he'll give you six dollars fer that b'ar.'

'Six dollars!' I exclaimed. "Three weeks with all the corn he wants, and he'll weigh out forty dollars' worth of meat!'

to the family of some ghost who had sacrificed his fleshly part in bringing out 'my' hogs: that is, if I persisted in exploiting my claim.

Snead dropped back and put an end to my list of contingencies. His voice was intimately lowered and I caught Sam's eye following him furtively.

'I hate to see a woman git the worst

'You gittin' it wrong, Mis' Dolly,' said Snead. 'B'ar meat as old as that feller is stringy an' tough, an' don't make no grease to talk about. Ain't hardly anybody'll buy it. Ol' Abe ain't pertickler ef he gits it cheap. He'll take the green meat to Carson an' sell it. An' rec'lect the b'ar's got to be knifed. That's allers a resk. Six dollars is top money fer him.'

'Yer talkin' right, Ag,' said granpap. 'Let's go by Abe's.'

He went by Abe's, and granpap pocketed five dollars for the hog, the buyer considering six a 'masterous price.'

Everybody seemed happy going home, except for a few regrets over the sow that got away, and a wail from little Ross for his lost pig. Everybody except myself. I was reflecting heavily in terms of profit and loss. All of my farm-help had given a day's work; they would give another to-morrow, helping Snead. Four men two days meant a loss to me of eight days' labor. Coretta would surely shame me into contributing toward new shoes and overalls for Sam. I must also count my disturbing escape from starting a feud; must even consider future entanglements on that score. Nor should I forget the emotional waste due to seeing every member of the party narrowly and frequently elude death from pitching head over heels into a rock-bed. And to its hopeless depths I must consider the probability of becoming indentured

began. 'You've got a fine hog-claim, an' you ought to be gittin' something out of it. How many hogs hev the boys brought in fer ye this year?'

"This is the first time we've been after them.'

'Course, though, the boys hev been out more'n onct a-markin' shotes?' 'I don't know about that.'

'Well, I do, fer I've seen 'em.' He called to Sam. 'Sam, how many shotes did ye git marked that day I seed ye out fer 'em?'

Sam did not flinch under the attack. 'We marked a fine lot,' he said. 'I don't jest remember how many. I been meanin' to tell ye 'bout that, Mis' Dolly, 'cause you'll be wantin' to 'low us something fer the markin'. It's shore hard work. That wuz when you's gone to Hiwassee, an' I fergot to tell ye when you come home. I knowed you'd make it all right.'

'What's it worth to mark hogs, Sam?'

'It's worth more'n ketchin' 'em, 'cause we've got to ketch 'em an' mark 'em, an' turn 'em loose. But we're goin' to make it easier on you than that.'

I exonerate Sam from any intention of charging me for 'turning them loose.' He was merely embellishing his defense. But by a brief calculation I saw that if I gave half the value of the hogs for catching and bringing them in, and the other half, or a little less, for marking the young, I would have to pursue my profit with a microscope.