e spears?"

"Let's see 'em first, sir," said Ned wisely, "and wait our chance, and
then do both."

The objects which had excited their attention by sundry familiar
sounding grunts were not long in showing themselves in the shape of a
little herd of pigs, three old ones and about a dozen half-grown; and as
they came down a slope to their left, and began rooting about under the
trees a couple of hundred yards away, Ned softly smacked his lips,
looked at Jack, took out his brass matchbox, and said the expressive
word "crackling."

The formation of the mountain side was mostly that of shallow stony
gullies opening one into the other, but all with the general tendency up
and down, and it was on the slope of one of these that the fugitives
were resting, while the herd had entered it from its highest part.

Ned's fingers played tremblingly about the bow he held. Then he felt
his arm, and a look of joy and pride came into his eyes.

"It's all right," he whispered. "I say, sir, wasn't it a grand idea to
leave some pigs here to breed? You stop quiet and wait your chance."

"Why? What are you going to do?" whispered Jack.

"Creep round by the back of this tree, sir, and as they feed down I'll
go up the side, and by and by you'll see me dodging softly along toward
you over yonder beyond them. Then we shall have 'em between us, and if
they take fright they must either go up or down, and pass one of us.
It's our chance, and we must not let it go. Look here, sir, you choose
one of the little ones, and wait till you think you can hit him. Then
hold up your hand and we'll fire together. Then run at 'em with your
spear. We must get one or else starve."

It was the best way of approaching success, as Jack saw, and whispering
that he would do as his companion suggested, he sat there watching Ned's
movements as he crept away up the slope and disappeared. Then fitting
an arrow to the bowstring, after laying his spear ready by his side, he
rested the bow across his knees, and sat on his mossy stone, watching
the movements of the little herd, and expecting, moment by moment, to
see one of the watchful elders take alarm, give warning, and the whole
party dash back up the gully.

But they kept rooting and hunting about, evidently for some kind of
fruit which fell from the trees, and Jack felt as if he were far back in
the past, a hunter on that beautiful, wild mountain slope, dependent
upon his bow for his existence. The sun