There was a ragged, throaty shout. Sam had him. Snead, too reckless, rushed in on the wrong side and had to rush out again. “Tie him, kain’t you?” puffed Sam. “I ain’t no snake, I kain’t live in two pieces!” Snead made another rush and got the rope securely tied. This freed Sam, who made a grab for the other hapless hind leg of the boar, and the two were then made fast together. The animal, crazed by the outrage, tossed his tusks in a last desperation, and Drum’s hold broke. The dog was thrown ten feet, just as granpap, by a miraculous move, got the noose around the boar’s nose above his tusks. “Pap’s done it!” cried Len. And “Pap’s got him!” echoed Sam. “Me fer granpap!” shouted Ben. “Smart fer ol’ bones,” said Snead; and “Hurrah, granpap!” said I, to be with the tide. “I couldn’t ’a’ beat it,” said Burl, and Len turned on him. “Ef you want to marry my girl, you’ll have to carry a better gun’n I do.” “You got to pay fer my dog,” said Burl, backing off. “When hell cools butter,” said Len. “Shet yer mouth ef you can do it with them tight breeches on.” Then his angry spurt was over. “You goin’ to he’p carry this thing in home?” Burl came trippingly forward and looked at the boar. Forefeet and back were tied, and a long pole thrust under them. Safely trussed, but the tusks looked alive. “I’ll he’p at his hind feet,” said Burl, and laughter rolled over him. “You walk ahead to keep the bears an’ Injuns off us,” said Len. “Ben, you an’ Sam git aholt the hind end o’ that pole. Me an’ Ted’ll take the front.” They took off their jackets and, doubling them up, placed them between their shoulders and the pole. “Won’t it hurt him?” I asked, as they swung their load. “Hurt that feller? I jest wish we could,” said Sam. I remembered that the creature was revenue and hardened my heart. We ought to get twenty-five dollars, at least, for him, half of which would be mine, the other half going to Sam and Len. As it was easier to keep around the side of the hill with their heavy load, and come into the trail lower down, I said that I would go up to the ridge and get Serena. I should be glad to be out of sight of the pathetic monster swinging in torture from the pole. I got up the hill, and at some distance caught sight of Serena’s fire. She was placidly singing, in utter detachment from little Ross, who was “playing horse” up and down the ridge. The song was her favorite ballad about the cruelty of sundering true lovers. She liked to repeat it; and though she usually began singing in a robust major key, with each repetition her tone would become more plaintive. She was now at her happiest, in an unbearably wailing minor. The girl, persecuted by obdurate parents, had wandered from home “And rambled the green growing meadows around, Until she came to a clear broad river, And under a green shade-tree sat down.