t. If there happens to be shooting along the
way, as there is in most parts of Shansi, it helps to pass the time.
We picked up a few pheasants, some chuckars, and a dozen pigeons,
but did not stop to do any real hunting until we entered a wooded
valley and established ourselves in a fairly comfortable Chinese but
at the little village of Kao-chia-chuang. On the way in we met a
party of Christian Brother missionaries who had been hunting in the
vicinity for five days. They had seen ten or twelve pigs and had
killed a splendid boar weighing about three hundred and fifty pounds
as well as two roebuck.

The mountains near the village had been so thoroughly hunted that
there was little chance of finding pigs, but nevertheless we decided
to stay for a day or two. I killed a two-year-old roebuck on the
first afternoon; and the next morning, while Smith and I were
resting on a mountain trail, one of our men saw an enormous wild
boar trot across an open ridge and disappear into a heavily forested
ravine. I selected a post on a projecting shoulder, while one
Chinese went with Smith to pick up the trail of the pig. There were
so many avenues of escape open to the boar that I had to remain
where it was possible to watch a large expanse of country.

Smith had not yet reached the bottom of the ravine when the native
who had remained with me suddenly began to gesticulate wildly and to
point to a wooded slope directly in front of us. He hopped about
like a man who has suddenly lost his mind and succeeded in keeping
in front of me so that I could see nothing but his waving arms and
writhing body. Finally seizing him by the collar, I threw him to the
ground so violently that he realized his place was behind me. Then I
saw the pig running along a narrow trail, silhouetted against the
snow which lay thinly on the shaded side of the hill.

He was easily three hundred and fifty yards away and I had little
hope of hitting him, but I selected an open patch beyond a bit of
cover and fired as he emerged. The boar squealed and plunged forward
into the bushes. A moment later he reappeared, zigzagging his way up
the slope and only visible through the trees when he crossed a patch
of snow. I emptied the magazine of my rife in a futile bombardment,
but the boar crossed the summit and disappeared.

We picked up his bloody trail and for two hours followed it through
a tangled mass of scrub and thorns. It seemed certain that we must
find him at any