o
itself.

The pig echoed the yell, and rushed down the hill towards the cliffs,
closely followed by the hardy seaman, who, in the ardour of the chase,
forgot or ignored his aches and pains, and ran like a greyhound, his
hair streaming in the wind, his eyes blazing with excitement, and the
spear ready poised for a fatal dart. Altogether, he was so wild and
strong in appearance, and so furious in his onset, that it was
impossible to believe he had been half dead little more than an hour
before, but then, as we have before remarked, Bumpus was hard to kill!

For nearly half an hour did the hungry seaman keep up the chase--neither
gaining nor losing distance, while the affrighted pig, having its
attention fixed entirely on its pursuer, scrambled and plunged forward
over every imaginable variety of ground, receiving one or two severe
falls in consequence. Bumpus, being warned by its fate, escaped them.
At last the two dashed into a gorge and out at the other end, scrambled
through a thicket, plunged down a hill, and doubled a high rock, on the
other side of which they were met in the teeth by Henry Stuart at the
head of his band.

The pig attempted to double. Failing to do so, it lost its footing and
fell flat on its side. Jo Bumpus threw his spear with violent energy
deep into the earth about two feet beyond it, tripped on a stump and
fell headlong on the top of the pig, squeezing the life out of its body
with the weight of his ponderous frame, and receiving its dying yell
into his very bosom.

"Hilloa! my stalwart chip of old Neptune," cried Henry, laughing,
"you've bagged him this time effectually. Hast seen any of the niggers,
or did you mistake this poor pig for one?"

"Ay, truly, I have seen them, and given a few of 'em marks that will
keep 'em in remembrance of me. As for this pig," said Jo, throwing the
carcase over his shoulder, "I want a bit of summat to eat--that's the
fact; an' the poor children will be--"

"Children," cried Mr Mason, eagerly, "what do you mean, my man; have
you seen any?"

"In course I has, or I wouldn't speak of 'em," returned Jo, who did not
at first recognise the missionary, and no wonder, for Mr Mason's
clothes were torn and soiled, and his face was bruised, bloodstained,
and haggard.

"Tell me, friend, I entreat you," said the pastor earnestly, laying his
hand on Jo's arm, "have you seen my child?"

"Wot! are you the father o' the little gal? Why, I've seed her only
hal