mie'
and 'Giblets' were riding neck and neck. There was a small mango
orchard in front surrounded by the usual ditch and bank. It was nothing
of a leap; the boar took it with ease, and we could just see him top
the bank not twenty spear lengths ahead. I was slightly leading, and
full of eager anxiety and emulation. Jamie called on me to pull up, but
I was too excited to mind him. I saw him and Giblets each take an
outward wheel about, and gallop off to catch the boar coming out of the
cluster of trees on the far side, as I thought. I could not see him,
but I made no doubt he was in full flight through the trees. There was
plenty of riding room between the rows, so lifting my game little horse
at the bank, I felt my heart bound with emulation as I thought I was
certain to come up first, and take the spear from two such noted heroes
as my companions. I came up with the pig first, sure enough. _He_ was
waiting for _me_, and scarce giving my horse time to recover his stride
after the jump, he came rushing at me, every bristle erect, with a
vicious grunt of spite and rage. My spear was useless, I had it
crosswise on my horse's neck; I intended to attack first, and finding
my enemy turning the tables on me in this way was rather disconcerting.
I tried to turn aside and avoid the charge, but a branch caught me
across the face, and knocked my _puggree_ off. In a trice the savage
little brute was on me. Leaping up fairly from the ground, he got the
heel of my riding boot in his mouth, and tore off the sole from the
boot as if it had been so much paper. Jamie and Giblets were sitting
outside watching the scene, laughing at my discomfiture. Fortunately
the boar had poor tusks, and my fine little horse was unhurt, but I got
out of that orchard as fast as I could, and ever after hesitated about
attacking a boar when he had got a bank or ditch between him and me,
and was waiting for me on the other side. The far better plan is to
wait till he sees you are not pressing him, he then goes off at a surly
sling trot, and you can resume the chase with every advantage in your
favour. When the blood however is fairly up, and all one's sporting
instincts roused, it is hard to listen to the dictates of prudence or
the suggestions of caution and experience.

The very same day we had another instance. My manager, 'Young Mac,' as
we called him, had started a huge old boar. He was just over the boar,
and about to deliver his thrust, when his horse