Had not the noble bird been grievously wounded he would have defied the utmost exertions of the little spaniel, but as it was, he could only get for a moment out of the reach of his pursuer by a violent effort, which only left him more exhausted. And now they approached the shore; and the swan, hard pressed, turns round and aims a blow with its bill at the dog. This Fig managed to elude, and in return made a snap at his enemy's wing, and obtained a mouthful of feathers; but in revenge he received on his nose a rap from the strong pinion of the bird that made him turn tail and fairly yelp with anguish. "Never mind, brave Fig! good dog! at him again! Bravo -- bravo! good little fellow!" There he is, once more upon him. And now, master Fig, taught a lesson by the smart blows he had received, endeavours to assail only the wounded wing of the swan. It was a very fierce combat, but the swan would probably have had the best of it had not loss of blood rendered him faint and weak. He still fought bravely, but now whenever he missed his adversary, his bill would remain a moment in the water, as though he had scarcely strength to raise his head; and as he grew momentarily weaker and weaker, so Fig waxed more daring and energetic in his assaults; until at length he fairly seized his exhausted foe by the neck, and notwithstanding his struggles, and the violent flapping of his long unwounded wing, began to draw him towards the shore. We hurried to meet and help him. Jezebel was the first that dashed breast-high into the water; and seizing a pinion in her strong jaws, she soon drew both the swan and Fig, who would have died rather than let go, through the yielding sedges to the land. The swan was soon dead; and Fig lay panting on the sand, with his moth open, and looking up to his master as he wagged his tail, clearly implying, "Did not I do it well, master?" "Yes, my little dog, you did it nobly. And now you shall have some of this bread, of Simon's own baking, which I cannot eat myself; and Jonathan and I will finish this flask of brandy and water." And now we set out on our return home, anxious to display our trophy to envious eyes. As we approached the Cantonment, I discharged my unloaded barrel at a bird like a thrush in appearance, called a Wattle-bird, from having two little wattles which project from either side of its head. The salute was answered by a similar discharge from the Cantonment, and soon afterwards Meliboeus came running to meet us, preceded by the blood-hound at full gallop. The dogs greeted one another with much apparent satisfaction. Little Fig was evidently anxious to inform his big friend of all that he had done, but Nero was much too dignified and important to attend to him, and bestowed all his notice upon Jezebel. The fishermen had succeeded in catching a dozen mullet, which were all ready for cooking; and the frying-pan being soon put in requisition, we were speedily placed at table.