down his leg and breast, but the plucky hound still held on, lying close on the near side, while his teeth were fast through the boar’s off lug, the latter striving all he could to get his head round and tusk the dog.  Added to this the position they had contrived to get themselves into was unfortunate; the boar was so close to the bank it was impossible to reach his off side, and the dog lay so close he could not be touched on the other.

Smith was a powerful fellow, and in fun of this kind would have faced a boar singlehanded.  He called to me that he would rush in and seize the boar by his hind legs and try to pull him round, while I watched my opportunity to jump between him and the bank.  It was our only chance to save the dog, at any rate, and luckily it proved successful.  As Smith laid on I jumped, and although I fell on all fours between the boar and the slippery bank, I contrived just in time to drive the knife into his heart, and the huge beast rolled over and with a few gasps died.  We were both exhausted, and the poor dog, when the excitement was over, lay down with a low whine, thoroughly done up from exhaustion and loss of blood.  We washed and bound his wound as well as we could and tied him to a bush of snow grass to await the dray.

Legge and Forde had already despatched a large boar and two full-grown sows, and were in chase of others.  We came up with them when they were engaged with a fine young boar which had sheltered and come to bay in a clump of thorny scrub (wild Irishman, so called).  Neither dogs nor men could reach him, and the only plan was to irritate him till he bolted.  This was difficult, but at length successful, and the beast made a rush straight for us.  However, he was bent on defence rather than offence, and we escaped his tusks.  Legge was first mounted and away with one of the dogs in chase, but going over the rough, honeycombed ground I mentioned he too met with a bad fall which threw him out of the running, and now Smith, Forde, and I were in full cry with the two dogs.

By this time both dogs and horses were somewhat blown, whereas the boar having had a rest we feared would escape, and reaching a low swampy flat he disappeared in a large patch of snow grass and reeds.  As we were not sure of his exact position, we decided to ride through in line, to endeavour to drive him again to the open.  In doing so the boar broke covert under Forde’s horse’s legs, and ripped him below the hock.  This rendered Forde and his horse hors de combat, and Smith and I had the chase again in our hands.  For nearly a mile that boar led us a furious dance over villainous ground, through spear grass and swamp, in momentary danger of being thrown or torn by thorny shrub, twisting and doubling in and out of inaccessible places, but he was beginning to show signs of fatigue, and we saw he could not make much fight when once the dogs got hold.  The latter were in fierce excitement, having lost their prey so often.  After a final spurt of half a mile they pulled him down, and he was easily despatched.