One or two of the boldest came running towards me in the hope of being fed; but, seeing that I made no motion, swerved as though their courage failed them, and stood regarding me sideways with their grotesque little eyes.  Finding me still unresponsive, they began to nose in the dried grasses with an affected unconcern which set me smiling; it seemed so humanlike a pretence under rebuff.  The rest, as usual, dispersed under the trees and along the nettle-beds by the wall.  It occurred to me that, if I let these gentlemen work round to my rear, they might distract my attention—­perhaps at an awkward moment—­by nosing up to the forage-bags or upsetting the camp-furniture, so with a wave of my musket I headed them back.  They took the hint obediently enough, and, wheeling about, fell to rooting between me and the entrance.  So I sat maybe for another five minutes, still keeping my main attention on the gateway, but with an occasional glance to right and left, to detect and warn back any fresh attempt to work round my flanks.

Now, in the act of waving my musket, I had happened to catch sight of one remarkably fine hog among the nettles, who, taking alarm with the rest, had winced away and disappeared in the rear of the church, where a narrow alley ran between it and the churchyard wall.  If he followed this alley to its end, he would come into sight again around the apse and almost directly on my right flank.  I kept my eye lifting towards this corner of the building, Waiting for him to reappear, which by-and-by he did, and with a truly porcine air of minding his own business and that only.

His unconcern was so admirably affected that, to test it, instead of waving him back I lifted my musket very quietly, almost without shifting my position, and brought the butt against my shoulder.

He saw the movement; for at once, even with his head down in the grasses, he hesitated and came to a full stop.  Suddenly, as my fingers felt for the trigger-guard, my heart began to beat like a hammer.

There lay my danger; and in a flash I knew it, but not the extent of it.  This was no hog, but a man; by the start and the quick arrested pose in which the brute faced me, still with his head low and his eyes regarding me from the grasses, I felt sure of him.  But what of the others?  Were they also men?  If so, I was certainly lost, but I dared not turn my eyes for a glance at them.  With a sudden and most natural grunt the brute backed a little, shook his head in disgust, and sidled towards the angle of the building.  “Now or never,” thought I, and pulled the trigger.

As the musket kicked against me I felt—­I could not see—­the rest of the hogs swerve in a common panic and break for the gateway.  Their squealing took up the roar of the report and protracted it.  They were real hogs, then.