A Los? PIG As I was standing on the bank
I began to hear a rustling in the undergrowth. It was more than the noise made by a foraging bird, and at length the maker of the noise began to break through. I found myself almost face to face with a small black pig that contemplated me without advancing or retreating. He might have been a wild pig. but beneath his mud I could see that he was really an unhairy little fellow of higher breeding. Finally, to break the spell, he gave a grunt. spun round on his forefeet and plunged back into the under- growth, squealing and grunting as he went. He was having the time of his life, but where, he had come from or where he was bound I couldn't guess. Someone would have a long starch to find him, and he wouldn't go short
of food, for there were potatoes within range, and a fine field of roots he could plunder without showing more than the top of his fat little back.
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