At last there was the appearance far up of a large pig coming down toward the herd, but the next moment, as it glided among the leaves, Jack saw that it was a pig with clothes on, and that it carried a bow and arrow. The time had come for a shot, and softly and slowly the lad edged himself back till he could drop on his knees behind the stone, rest the bow upon it horizontally, and wait for the critical moment to draw and launch his arrow. He could watch Ned the while as well as the herd, and by slow degrees he saw his companion creep from tree-trunk to tree-trunk, slowly diminishing the distance, while, having probably cleared off the fallen fruit, the herd broke into a trot as if to pass within twenty yards of where he waited. But the next minute they had stopped fifty yards away, and Ned had soon reduced his distance till he was about as much above them. Then all at once he disappeared. The minutes seemed to be terribly long drawn out now, but the herd came lower and lower, till fully half of them were rambling about just in front; and feeling that he would never have a better chance, the lad singled out one half-grown fellow in the midst of three more, all feeding, and he held up his hand for a moment or two in the hope that Ned might see it, though where he hid it was impossible to say. Slight as was the movement of the raised hand it was seen, for the biggest pig, a rough, bristly-necked animal, suddenly raised its head and gazed sharply, with eyes that looked fiery in the brilliant sunshine, straight in his direction. _Twang! twang_! went two bowstrings, the arrows whizzed through the air, and in the midst of a rush, away tore the herd down the valley, just as Ned leaped up, made a bound or two, and plunged his spear down amidst the bushes. Jack dropped his bow, caught up his own spear, and dashed forward to help finish the wounded pigs, and Ned was up before him, panting and dripping with perspiration. "Got one?" cried Jack. "Got one!" cried Ned bitterly. "Course we ain't. Just like my luck." "Oh!" groaned Jack, as a pang of hunger shot through him. "I never saw such arrows," cried Ned passionately. "I could smash the lot. They don't go straight." "Is it any use to follow them?" said Jack. "No, sir; it ain't," cried the man angrily. "And what's more, you know it ain't. What's the good of aggravating a poor fellow? And," he added pathetically, "I did mean to have such a roast." CHAPTER THIRTY THREE. IN THE FACE OF PERIL. "Come on," said Jack, after they had stood listening for a few minutes, and gazing in the direction taken by the pigs. "Is it any use looking for the arrows?"