h a dozen dingoes--night-dogs--at its heels. In the
excitement of pursuit they did not notice the crouching boy, but
pounced on the pig, tore at it, snapping and snarling at one another,
and in a few minutes the meal was over.

Frozen with terror at this strange sight, the boy remained quiet until
the brutes began sniffing and turning in his direction; then he stood
erect, and giving vent to a scream which rang through the forest,
hurled the two stones with all his strength straight at the nearest. He
was a good marksman. Agonized yelps followed the impact of stone and
hide; two dogs rolled over and over, then, gaining their feet, sped
after their fleeing companions, while the boy sat down, trembling in
every limb--completely unnerved. Yet he knew that he was the cause of
their flight. With a stone in each hand, he watched and waited until
daylight, then arose and went on homeward, with a new and intense
emotion--not fear of the dingoes: he was the superior animal, and knew
it--not pity for the pig: he had not developed to the pitying stage. He
was possessed by a strong, instinctive desire to emulate the dogs and
eat of animal food. It did not come of his empty stomach; he felt it
after he had satisfied his hunger on the way; and as he plodded down
the slope toward his cave, gripped his missiles fiercely and watched
sharply for small animals--preferably pigs.

But no pigs appeared. He reached his cave, and slept all day and the
following night, waking in the morning hungry, and with the memory of
his late adventure strong in his mind. He picked up the two stones he
had brought home, and started down the beach, but stopped, came back,
and turned inland by the wall; then he halted again and retraced his
steps--puzzled. He pondered awhile,--if his mental processes may be so
termed,--then walked slowly down the beach, entered the bush a short
distance, turned again to the wall, and gained his starting-point. Then
he reversed the trip, and coming back by way of the beach, struck
inland with a clear and satisfied face. He had solved the problem--a
new and hard one for him--that of two roads to a distant place; and he
had chosen the shortest.

In a few hours he reached his late camping-spot, and crouched to the
earth, listening for barking and squealing--for a pig to be chased his
way. But dingoes hunt only by night, and unmolested pigs do not squeal.
Impatient at last, he went on through the forest in the direction from
wh