The disappointed assailants pursued me, and encircling the tree, vented their rage in grunts and groans. Never did I see such a hubbub. Sitting upon the limbs of the tree in perfect safety, I looked down and laughed very heartily at the scene. There was one boar who seemed particularly anxious to signalize himself. He had enormous long tusks, and in his fury, he frothed at the mouth, and kept up a great outcry. He was probably the captain of the troop, for he generally led the way, and a party of a dozen supporters were always at his heels. I could not forbear the pleasure of stirring up this Hector of the field with an occasional poke across the back with my shillaleh. It was amusing to see his indignation, blent with his courage. He rose upon his hind legs, and looked defiance with all his might. There was something about him which seemed to say--“Come down here, you coward; come down, and we’ll give you a peeling.” I did not, however, accept the challenge, though I would have been willing to have tried my hand with him in single combat. Forty to one was rather too many, and so I remained in my castle. Rage, like everything else, must have its end; so, in the course of half an hour, the chivalry of these pigs began to abate. Two or three of them slipped off into the bushes, and their example was soon followed by others. In the course of half an hour, they were all dispersed except the commander-in-chief, and even he, at last, took his departure, having expressed his contempt and defiance in a few significant grunts. I waited till the whole troop had vanished. I then cautiously descended, and proceeded with a light step upon my way. I looked back several times, and scrutinized the thickets that lay along my path. I travelled pretty rapidly for three or four miles, and I may as well confess that I breathed much more freely when I found I had distanced the enemy. It may seem ridiculous that one should be seriously frightened at such an attack, yet the scene dwelt for some time in my memory, and for several nights, my dreams were embellished with images drawn from the swinish mob that had assailed me in the woods. I now continued my journey, and at the end of eight days, I reached the place of my destination. I found the person whom I sought to be a fat, burly Englishman, named Hartley, possessing about a hundred negroes, all of whom were engaged in the cultivation of coffee. When I told him my errand, he looked at me with surprise, and seemed at first to be in doubt whether he should answer my inquiries. At last, having satisfied himself that I had no sinister object in view, he told me the story which shall be related in the next chapter. CHAPTER IX.