a distance behind.

On the edge of a little billabong she came upon a truculent boar. It
turned on her, but she fired, and it fell. Seeing another ahead, she
pushed on quickly to secure it, too. As she went she half-cocked her
rifle. Had her mind been absolutely intent on the sport, she had full
cocked it. All at once she heard the thud of feet behind her. She
turned swiftly, and saw the boar she had shot bearing upon her, its long
yellow tusks standing up like daggers. A sweeping thrust from one of
them leaves little chance of life.

She dropped upon a knee, swung her rifle to her shoulder, and pulled the
trigger. The rifle did not go off. For an instant she did not grasp the
trouble. With singular presence of mind, however, she neither lowered
her rifle nor took her eye from the beast; she remained immovable. It
was all a matter of seconds. Evidently cowed, the animal, when within a
few feet of her, swerved to the right, then made as though to come down
on her again. But, meanwhile, she had discovered her mistake, and cocked
her rifle. She swiftly trained it on the boar, and fired. It was hit,
but did not fall; and came on. Then another shot rang out from behind
her, and the boar fell so near her that its tusk caught her dress.

Jack Sherman had saved her.

She was very white when she faced him. She could not speak. That night,
however, she spoke very gratefully and almost tenderly.

To something that he said gently to her then about a memory, she replied:
"Tell me now as candidly as if to your own soul, did you feel at the
critical moment that life would be horrible and empty without me?"