Fortunately there were only ten of the animals left, and these we finally
managed to silence. After descending from the tree, I found Jerry in
anything but an amiable mood, at "the idee of an old hunter like he was,
bein' treed by a lot of hogs;" and, as usual, he declared that "them
cussid boys" was to blame, "for boys hadn't no bizness on the plains, no
how."

By the exercise of considerable caution in approaching the herd, we
managed to get quite near without attracting their attention; and I asked
Jerry if it wasn't strange that the boys gave no sign of being aware of
our presence.

"Sign!" said Jerry; "how could they give any sign when I couldn't hear my
own shots? Why, the only way I knowed if thet pistol went off or not was
by watchin' fur the smoke: the critters kep' up such a squealin' that I
couldn't hear you speak a word. I'll bet my hoss agin a chaw of terbacker
that them boys hain't heerd a shot we've fired, an' dunno we're within five
miles on 'em."

Taking advantage of our former experience, we approached as near and as
quietly as possible, obtaining position beneath a tree,--in the branches
of which we could place ourselves if necessary,--and then opened fire
upon them with our revolvers, with such good effect, that the remainder
of the herd took to their long legs and were soon out of sight.

[Illustration: Wild Hogs.]

When the last of them disappeared, the boys dropped to the ground; but so
cramped were their limbs from their long confinement, that it was some
time before they could stand. While they were getting "the kinks out of