weaker and weaker, so Fig waxed more daring and energetic in his
assaults; until at length he fairly seized his exhausted foe by the
neck, and notwithstanding his struggles, and the violent flapping of
his long unwounded wing, began to draw him towards the shore. We
hurried to meet and help him. Jezebel was the first that dashed
breast-high into the water; and seizing a pinion in her strong jaws,
she soon drew both the swan and Fig, who would have died rather than
let go, through the yielding sedges to the land.

The swan was soon dead; and Fig lay panting on the sand, with his
moth open, and looking up to his master as he wagged his tail,
clearly implying, "Did not I do it well, master?" "Yes, my little
dog, you did it nobly. And now you shall have some of this bread, of
Simon's own baking, which I cannot eat myself; and Jonathan and I
will finish this flask of brandy and water."

And now we set out on our return home, anxious to display our trophy
to envious eyes.

As we approached the Cantonment, I discharged my unloaded barrel at a
bird like a thrush in appearance, called a Wattle-bird, from having
two little wattles which project from either side of its head.

The salute was answered by a similar discharge from the Cantonment,
and soon afterwards Meliboeus came running to meet us, preceded by
the blood-hound at full gallop. The dogs greeted one another with
much apparent satisfaction. Little Fig was evidently anxious to
inform his big friend of all that he had done, but Nero was much too
dignified and important to attend to him, and bestowed all his notice
upon Jezebel.