After this, times were very hard on
the plantation. But the boys’ mother struggled
to provide as best she could for the family and hands.
She used to ride all over the county to secure the
supplies which were necessary for their support; one
of the boys usually being her escort and riding behind
her on one of the old mules that the raiders had left.
In this way the boys became acquainted with the roads
of the county and even with all the bridle-paths in
the neighborhood of their home. Many of these
were dim enough too, running through stretches of
pine forest, across old fields which were little better
than jungle, along gullies, up ditches, and through
woods mile after mile. They were generally useful
only to a race, such as the negroes, which had an
instinct for direction like that shown by some animals
but the boys learned to follow them unerringly, and
soon became as skilful in “keepin’ de
parf” as any night-walker on the plantation.
As the year passed the times grew
harder and harder, and the expeditions made by the
boys’ mother became longer and longer, and more
and more frequent.
The meat gave out, and, worst of all,
they had no hogs left for next year. The plantation
usually subsisted on bacon; but now there was not
a pig left on the place unless the old wild
sow in the big woods (who had refused to be “driven
up” the fall before) still survived, which was
doubtful; for the most diligent search was made for
her without success, and it was conceded that even
she had fallen prey to the deserters. Nothing
was heard of her for months.
One day, in the autumn, the boys were
out hunting in the big woods, in the most distant
and wildest part, where they sloped down toward a
little marshy branch that ran into the river a mile
or two away.
It was a very dry spell and squirrels
were hard to find, owing, the boys agreed, to the
noise made in tramping through the dry leaves.
Finally, they decided to station themselves each at
the foot of a hickory and wait for the squirrels.
They found two large hickory trees not too far apart,
and took their positions each on the ground, with
his back to a tree.
It was very dull, waiting, and a half-whispered
colloquy was passing between them as to the advisability
of giving it up, when a faint “cranch, cranch,
cranch,” sounded in the dry leaves. At first
the boys thought it was a squirrel, and both of them
grasped their guns. Then the sound came again,
but this time there appeared to be, not one, but a
number of animals, rustling slowly along.
“What is it?” asked Frank
of Willy, whose tree was a little nearer the direction
from which the sound came.
“’Tain’t anything
but some cows or sheep, I believe,” said Willy,
in a disappointed tone. The look of interest
died out of Frank’s face, but he still kept
his eyes in the direction of the sound, which was now
very distinct. The underbrush, however, was too
thick for them to see anything. At length Willy
rose and pushed his way rapidly through the bushes
toward the animals. There was a sudden “oof,
oof,” and Frank heard them rushing back down
through the woods toward the marsh.
“Somebody’s hogs,” he muttered,
in disgust.
“Frank! Frank!” called Willy, in
a most excited tone.
“What?”
“It’s the old spotted
sow, and she’s got a lot of pigs with her great
big shoats, nearly grown!”
Frank sprang up and ran through the bushes.
“At least six of ’em!”
“Let’s follow ’em!”
“All right.”
The boys, stooping their heads, struck
out through the bushes in the direction from which
the yet retreating animals could still be heard.
“Let’s shoot ’em.”
“All right.”
On they kept as hard as they could.
What great news it was! What royal game!
“It’s like hunting wild boars, isn’t
it?” shouted Willy, joyfully.
They followed the track left by the
animals in the leaves kicked up in their mad flight.
It led down over the hill, through the thicket, and
came to an end at the marsh which marked the beginning
of the swamp. Beyond that it could not be traced;
but it was evident that the wild hogs had taken refuge
in the impenetrable recesses of the marsh which was
their home.