on such a gigantic scale, even the most thoughtless become impressed
with the majesty of nature.

Our camp was pitched on the banks of a clear running mountain stream,
brawling over rocks and boulders; and to eyes so long accustomed to the
never ending flatness of the rich alluvial plains, and the terrible
sameness of the rice swamps, the stream was a source of unalloyed
pleasure. There were only a few places where the abrupt banks gave
facilities for fording, and when a pig had broken fairly from the
jungle, and was making for the river (as they very frequently did),
you would see the cluster of horsemen scattering over the plain like
a covey of partridges when the hawk swoops down upon them. Each made
for what he considered the most eligible ford, in hopes of being first
up with the pig on the further bank, and securing the much coveted
first spear.

When a pig is hard pressed, and comes to any natural obstacle, as a
ditch, bank, or stream, he almost invariably gets this obstacle between
himself and his pursuer; then wheeling round he makes his stand,
showing wonderful sagacity in choosing the moment of all others when he
has his enemy at most disadvantage. Experienced hands are aware of
this, and often try to outflank the boar, but the best men I have seen
generally wait a little, till the pig is again under weigh, and then
clearing the ditch or bank, put their horses at full speed, which is
the best way to make good your attack. The rush of the boar is so
sudden, fierce, and determined, that a horse at half speed, or going
slow, has no chance of escape; but a well trained horse at full speed
meets the pig in his rush, the spear is delivered with unerring aim,
and slightly swerving to the left, you draw it out as you continue your
course, and the poor pig is left weltering in his blood behind you.