"And thus," remarked my father, with a bow of the old _regime_, "you shall be fourth, and you will see the st.u.r.dy grunter in all his beauty.

Come, my boys! a gla.s.s of the cognac all round; then silence, and each to his post. Here, Serpolet, forward with them, and remember, gentlemen, the word of command is 'Prudence and coolness!' Off! and may your stout hearts protect you!"

Then filing out from the glade where we had halted, each of us proceeded to his destination, the valiant Adolphe following Serpolet like a dog going to be drowned.

"Monsieur," said Serpolet, "you don't seem used to this fun; let a graybeard and an old huntsman advise you. I have seen the animal--actually seen him--a terrible boar, I promise you, as black as ink, clean legs, and ears well apart,--all true signs of courage. As sure as my name is Serpolet, he will make mince-meat of us--sure to charge. Take my advice, Monsieur; never mind what the gentlemen say about waiting; don't you let him get nearer to you than five-and-twenty paces; if not, in three bounds he will be at you; and in another second you will be opened like an oyster. Take care, Monsieur!"--and, wishing him success, Serpolet joined the beaters, who were waiting, all ready to advance.

"What shall we do?" said Adolphe as soon as he was gone.

"Do, why, take a look about us."

We were in a kind of low, open glade, about eighty paces in length, with an immense oak in the centre--a solitary spot, full of thick rushes, tufts of gra.s.s, brambles, and matted roots; in short, just the place that a boar would make his head-quarters. Adolphe accompanied me step by step, examined me from head to foot, and looked in my face as if he would read my every thought.

"Well, Adolphe," said I, after I had considered the princ.i.p.al points of our position, "the moment has at length arrived when you must draw your courage from the scabbard; and I hope it will shine like the light, for something tells me you will require it ere long."

"I'll tell you what; I beg you will not commence any of your long orations."

"If I talk to you now, it is because I shall not be able in a few minutes. Pay attention, therefore, to my instructions. Remain, I advise you, behind this oak, then you will have nothing to fear, and be sure not to leave it. I will place myself at the angle down yonder."

"Down there! Why you said you would not leave me for an instant."

"Come, come, don't be absurd; the moments are precious; you see I shall only be distant an hundred yards."

"An hundred yards! I tell you what--if you go ten yards, I go too."

"What! are you afraid? We are alone; come, be frank."

"No! I am not afraid, but my nerves are shaken; I am thoroughly done up with the scramble we have had through these woods; and then that rascal Serpolet, who prophesied that I shall be opened like an oyster--you shall not go, for I feel sure that when this brute of a boar makes his appearance, I shall be unable to look him in the face."

"My dear friend, I will do as you desire. We have still half an hour to wait; but remember, no imprudence--and if you should see my finger raised, mind, not a word or a sign."

As I uttered this apostrophe, a long and harmonious note from the head-keeper's horn, vibrating in the distance, came and died away upon our ears; after which, a confused clamour of voices arose, and as suddenly ceased.

"Hurrah! hurrah!" said I; "the _traqueurs_ are on the move, the curtain is raised, the play is about to commence--and, dear friend, be silent as death, for the actor will soon make his appearance on the stage."

During the next ten minutes, a murmur of voices and confused sounds were again borne on the wind to the two sportsmen, announcing that the line of beaters was steadily advancing, and now they could distinctly hear them at intervals, striking the trunks of the trees with their long iron-shod poles, thrusting them in the underwood, and shouting in chorus the song of the boar.

Again the horn is heard; but now its notes are sharp, shrill, jerking and hurried.

"That, my good Adolphe, denotes that the boar has risen, has been driven from his lair, is in view, flying before the beaters, and I am very much mistaken if he does not ere long pay us a visit."

Another blast is heard, but in very different tones to the last, and silence is again spread over the forest.

"There, Adolphe--there's a joyous and melodious note; it tells me that the monster is following his usual paths--we are sure to see him soon.

By St. Hubert, what lucky dogs we are!"

But the Parisian answered not, and leaned against his oak, a perfect picture of despair.

"Adolphe," I reiterated, "he won't be here yet, but speak low, or we may spoil everything. How do you feel? Do you think you can take good aim, and pull the trigger?"

"I feel," whispered Adolphe, "that I am not cut out for boar-hunting."

"Bah! Why, the other day you seemed to think it would be delightful, and now you don't appear to like the sport; keep your heart up, be cool, and all will be well;--it is only on grand occasions--those when real danger presents itself, as you told me the other day--that the proofs of undoubted courage show themselves; and then the ladies of the Faubourg St. Germain that you were to soften with your tales of forest life--'Mademoiselles,' you were to commence, 'when I was in Le Morvan, we had famous wolf and boar-hunting, and on one occasion'"....

"No! no!" groaned the Parisian, "I shall commence thus: On one occasion, nay, ladies, on all occasions, I much prefer being in your delightful society to that of the boars of Le Morvan."

"Nonsense, good Adolphe, you are laughing; why, you were to have the skin stuffed, the tusks gilt, the feet silver-mounted, and the tail was to be scarlet and curly. What! do you think no more about it?"

"Oh, yes! and of the cork calves also."

"Pooh! have we not two good hunting-knives and four iron bullets in the rifles, and a magnificent oak, a perfect wooden tower, for a breastwork."

"Yes! we have all this."

"And is not courage your father, and an excellent aim your mother, and is not death to the boar in our barrels?"

"Certainly!--death--oh! what a word at such a crisis!"--and on the instant two shots were heard, which made him jump again.

"Ah! ah!--good; that's the old gentleman who has led off the ball; the music of his rifle is not to be mistaken. The grisly vagabond has by this time two bits of iron in his flanks, which will considerably hasten his march. Silence! and be on the _qui vive_. Listen! Hear you not the distant crash in the bushes?" Two fresh shots were now fired, but nearer. "Said I not so? he is running the gauntlet--one more shot. Hush again! there he is, tearing along. Hark! not a whisper; your eye on the open, your ear to the wind, and your finger on the trigger!" But it was not the boar; for at the moment two roebucks and a fox broke near us, bounding along at full speed, when Adolphe, his face as pale as his cambric shirt, muttered, as he nearly fell upon his knees--"Oh!

Paris--oh! Chevet--oh! Boulevard des Italiens--I shall never see ye more!"

"Why, Adolphe! what the deuce is the matter with you? in the name of France, be a man. If my time is to be taken up with looking after you, I shall be in a nice situation. No nonsense--no useless fears? Do you, or do you not feel able to take part in the approaching drama?"

"No, I don't--I only just feel able to get up this tree."

"What! are you in such a funk as all that? Why, what a poor creature you must be! You are the very incarnation of fear!"

"Fear? I have no fear. Who says that I have? I don't know how it is, but I certainly do feel something--a sort of qualm, something like sea-sickness--everything seems going round--no doubt a sudden indisposition--such a thing might happen to the bravest man--Napoleon, they say, was bilious at Borodino. We part for a few minutes only, dear friend; I shall ascend the oak--an English king once did the same."

Another blast of the keeper's horn was now heard on the left.

"What does that mean?" cried Adolphe, one leg in the air.

"That signifies, the boar is making right for us."

"Does it? Then I am up;" and, with the agility of a cat, he was in an instant safely lodged in the branches. "Ah! my friend! how different it feels up here--the sickness is quite gone off, hand me the gun."

"In the name of Fortune," said I, "hold your coward tongue--here's the boar;" for I could now hear his snorting and loud breathing in the copse hard by.

"Do you hear him?" said Adolphe from his perch, his cheeks as green as the leaves which covered him.

"Hear him?" I exclaimed, "yes, I partly see him. What a monster! How he tears the ground!--how he bleeds and gnaws his burning wounds!--every hair of his back stands up, smoke and perspiration flow from his nostrils, and his eyes, glaring with agony and concentrated rage, look as if they would start from their sockets!"

On came the beaters, and in a few minutes the panting beast burst from his thicket, and rushed across the open; my eye was on every movement, and, firing both barrels, the contents struck him full in front. It was his death-blow, but the vital principle was yet unsubdued; and, summoning up all his dying energies--those which despair alone can give--he came at me with a force that I could never have withstood.

Fortunately the Parisian's gun was close to me, and the charge stopped him in full career. This was the _coup de grace_. He still, however, by one grand effort, stood n.o.bly on his haunches, opened his monstrous mouth, all red with blood, gave out one sharp deep groan of agony from his stifled lungs, and, falling upon his side, after many a wild convulsion, at length stretched his ma.s.sive and exhausted frame slowly out in death.

"Hurrah! Adolphe! you rascally acorn! shout, you _badaud_! give the death-whoop, and come down!"

"Is he really dead?"