They usually go off; they only stand when wounded or when
they think they can't get away. He's harmless, I suppose--only it made
me very tired to have him act that way. I hate to be backed out of my
own property."

Geraldine, rather relieved, yet ashamed not to do all she could, began
to walk toward a clump of low hemlocks. She had heard that wild boar
take that sort of cover. She did not really expect to find anything
there, so when a big black streak crashed out ahead of her she stood
stock still in frozen astonishment, rifle clutched to her breast.

"Shoot!" shouted her brother.

"Oh, dear, oh, dear," she said helplessly, "he's gone out of sight! And
I had such a splendid shot!" She stamped with vexation. "What a goose!"
she repeated. "I had a perfectly splendid shot. And all I did was to
jump like a scared cat and stare!"

"Anyway, you didn't run, and that's a point gained," observed her
brother. "I had to. And that's one on me."

A moment later he said: "I believe those impudent boar do need a little
thinning out. When is Duane coming?"

"In November," said Geraldine, still looking vaguely about for the
departed pig.

"Early?"

"I think so, if his father is all right again. I've asked Naida, too.
Rosalie wants to come----"

"Oh, for Heaven's sake, don't," he protested. "All I wanted was a
shooting party to do a little scientific thinning out of these boar.
I'll do some myself, too."

Geraldine laughed. "Rosalie is a dead shot at a target, dear. She wrote
asking us to invite her to shoot. I don't see how I can very well refuse
her. Do you?"

"That means her husband, too," grumbled Scott, "and that entire bunch."

"No; if it's a shooting party, I don't have to ask him."

Her brother said ungraciously: "Well, I don't care who you ask if
they'll thin out these cheeky brutes. Fancy that two-year-old pig
clattering his tusks at me, planted there in the path with his mane on
end!--You know it mortifies me, Kathleen--it certainly does. One of
these fine days some facetious pig will send me shinning up a tree!" He
grew madder at the speculative indignity. "By ginger! I'm going to have
a shooting party before the snow flies," he muttered, walking forward
between Kathleen and his sister. "Keep your eyes out ahead; we may jump
another at any time, as the wind is all right. And if we do, let him
have it, Geraldine!"

It was a beautiful woodland through which they moved.

The late autumn foliage was unusually