The formation of the mountain side was mostly that of shallow stony gullies opening one into the other, but all with the general tendency up and down, and it was on the slope of one of these that the fugitives were resting, while the herd had entered it from its highest part. Ned's fingers played tremblingly about the bow he held. Then he felt his arm, and a look of joy and pride came into his eyes. "It's all right," he whispered. "I say, sir, wasn't it a grand idea to leave some pigs here to breed? You stop quiet and wait your chance." "Why? What are you going to do?" whispered Jack. "Creep round by the back of this tree, sir, and as they feed down I'll go up the side, and by and by you'll see me dodging softly along toward you over yonder beyond them. Then we shall have 'em between us, and if they take fright they must either go up or down, and pass one of us. It's our chance, and we must not let it go. Look here, sir, you choose one of the little ones, and wait till you think you can hit him. Then hold up your hand and we'll fire together. Then run at 'em with your spear. We must get one or else starve." It was the best way of approaching success, as Jack saw, and whispering that he would do as his companion suggested, he sat there watching Ned's movements as he crept away up the slope and disappeared. Then fitting an arrow to the bowstring, after laying his spear ready by his side, he rested the bow across his knees, and sat on his mossy stone, watching the movements of the little herd, and expecting, moment by moment, to see one of the watchful elders take alarm, give warning, and the whole party dash back up the gully. But they kept rooting and hunting about, evidently for some kind of fruit which fell from the trees, and Jack felt as if he were far back in the past, a hunter on that beautiful, wild mountain slope, dependent upon his bow for his existence. The sun poured down its hot rays, making the leaves glisten like metal, and the air was so clear that the pigs' eyes and every movement were as plain as if close at hand. "Seems treacherous lying in wait like this," he thought. "Poor wretches! they all look as playful and contented as can be." But he knew that he and Ned must eat if they were ever to escape from that mountain, and the sentiment of pity died out as the time went on. The pigs were slow in coming down, for under the trees at the other side of the gully the fruit they sought seemed to be plentiful, and he could see the younger ones hunting one another as a lucky find was made, this resulting in a good deal of squealing, while above it the deep grunts of the elders were plainly heard. But there was no sight of Ned, and half-an-hour must have passed, with the pigs still out of reach for a good shot. "If they do come this way," thought the lad, "I can't study about picking one; I must shoot into the thickest part and chance it. But where is Ned? Why don't he show?"