The red book of animal stories/A Boar Hunt by Moonlight
A BOAR HUNT BY MOONLIGHT
It was shortly before Christmas, when the days are at their shortest, when the sun sets before four o’clock and by five darkness has spread over the face of the land. One such evening there sat smoking and chatting in their comfortable sitting-room the inspectors and the book-keeper of a great estate in Poland, which belonged to a nobleman, but was under the management of a German steward.
‘Children,’ said the Inspector Wultkiewicz, ‘in my rounds to-day I went past the pea-stacks of the Jaguicksy farm. You cannot imagine what havoc the wild boars have wrought there; if it is allowed to go on, by the spring the peas will be completely pulled up.’
At that moment the maidservant entered, and interrupted the conversation by announcing that supper was ready, and all the young men betook themselves to the steward’s house across the way, to eat their evening meal in company with the steward’s family. At table, the conversation again turning on the wild boars and the damage they had done, the book-keeper declared that in order to drive these pests away for ever it sufficed to shoot one.
Now this book-keeper, who, like the steward, was a German, was very clever at his own business, but, like many other people, believed that he could do everything. For instance, he considered himself an ideal of manly beauty, irresistible to ladies and unsurpassed in all knightly arts. In reality he was narrow-shouldered, hollow-chested, had long spindle shanks and a crooked back, great red hands, and huge feet; he stammered in his speech, and his behaviour towards ladies was like that of a young sporting dog who is being fondled.
‘But Herr Vomhammel,’ objected the steward, ‘you could easily shoot one of them, but you would find it rather dangerous to come to such close quarters.’
‘Ah, ha,’ laughed Fräulein Anna, the steward’s pretty eighteen-year-old daughter, whose chief delight it was to tease poor Vomhammel, ‘Herr Vomhammel would take to his heels as soon as ever he heard a pig grunt.’
‘Upon m-m-my honour, F-f-fräulein,’ he stammered in self-defence, ‘I would let f-f-fire with my good revolver, straight on a wild b-b-boar if only it stood still.’
Everyone laughed, but the book-keeper did not seem the least aware of it, and looked round triumphantly.
‘An idea occurs to me, however,’ said the steward; ‘by ten o’clock to-night the moon will be up, so let us invite all the peasants, and especially Ivan Meschkoff, the choir leader, who is experienced in boar hunts, to join us in a raid against them to-night. As you all know, the peasants are not allowed to have firearms, but make use, after the old Ruthenian fashion, of their pikes and pitchforks, once their dogs have brought the creatures to bay. If we were to drive in light sledges through the forest near to the pea-stacks, we might surprise the pigs, and by cutting off their retreat, the dogs that we should take in the sledges with us could not fail to seize some of the herd.’
This proposition met with general assent, the ladies even wishing to join in this sledge expedition, which seemed likely to be free from all danger. The peasants were soon ready, and by nine o’clock assembled, to the number of thirty, under the leadership of the gigantic bearded Ivan Meschkoff, each accompanied by one, or perhaps two, middle-sized but powerful cross-bred dogs, held in the leash. From the village they went to the manor-house, whence all set off together in eleven sledges, as many hunters as spectators. The steward took both his wife and daughter Anna with him on one of the small light sledges, as a large iron-bound one would have dragged too heavily through the freshly fallen snow and have been too wide for the narrow forest tracts through which they had to drive. The steward’s double-barrelled gun was the only firearm of any consequence taken on the expedition, and was entrusted to the Inspector Wultkiewicz, as he was an excellent shot. Our friend Vomhammel had naturally not forgotten to take his cherished revolver, with what results remains to be seen.
As they entered the forest, Ivan, who sat by Wultkiewicz on the foremost sledge, desired that all conversation should cease, and soon no sound was heard through the line of sledges but the rattle of the shafts or the occasional neigh of a horse.
Here and there, on either side of the path, where the undergrowth had been slightly cleared, were seen at a little distance numerous shining sparks which might have been taken for glow-worms, excepting for the fact that they moved, or rather seemed to glide along the ground in the same direction as the sledges and at the same rate of speed.
‘Are there glow-worms in winter?’ asked Wultkiewicz softly of his neighbour.
‘No, they are wolves’ eyes shining through the gloom,’ answered Ivan in a whisper, ‘they will follow us to the end of the wood, but there is nothing to fear; they just run with us for their amusement and to see if anything falls off the sledges. They are only dangerous during severe and prolonged cold, for the wolf is cowardly, and seldom attacks but in extreme need, and that never occurs here, with all the roe-deer and wild pig there are in these woods. The peasants and the horses are well accustomed to the sight of the wolves by night, and by day they never appear.’
At a distance of about one thousand feet, the pea-stacks stood out distinctly against the wintry sky, and all eyes were immediately turned in that direction. In his capacity of leader of the hunt, Ivan gave the order to drive slowly towards the stacks in a large half circle with a gap between each sledge, and to let loose the dogs as soon as the boars should begin to run.
When they had come to within three hundred feet of the stacks, they distinctly saw a large herd of black pigs busily engaged in their work of destruction. As soon as the creatures became aware of the approaching enemy they drew closer together. At a signal from Ivan the greater part of the dogs were let loose, and they rushed barking loudly on the common foe. The whole herd gathered close together in a tangled mass, and took flight across the fields in the opposite direction. Six sledges, manned by pike-armed peasants, pursued them quickly, while the remaining five sledges with the rest of the dogs, drove slowly after them so as to be able to cut off the retreat of the pigs into the forest.
When these last sledges had come to within a hundred and twenty feet of the stacks, the occupants saw a huge dark mass moving among the rooted up straw.
‘That must be an old boar, what they call a “hermit,” said Ivan, ‘a dangerous creature that fears neither dogs nor men.’
And, as if to prove the truth of his words, the monster then slowly turned his broadside to the sledge, without interrupting his eating and crunching.
‘If only I had my good rifle here!’ exclaimed Wultkiewicz excitedly, ‘but with shot one cannot pierce a hide like that.’
Vomhammel, who sat on the same sledge beside the driver, no sooner heard these words than he sprang up, threw his long legs over the splash-board, jumped out, and revolver in hand, advanced on the boar with huge strides.
‘For Heaven’s sake! back! what are you doing?’ exclaimed Ivan; but Vomhammel did not heed him, and rushed on,
Wultkiewicz, who did not wish to leave his colleague in the lurch, hastily thrust a couple of cartridges into the
VOMHAMMEL IN DANGER
barrel of his gun, and hurried to the spot. All these events had taken place with the speed of lightning, and in the general surprise every one stood helpless, Ivan alone not losing his presence of mind.
‘Wasil!’ he cried to the driver of the sledge, ‘drive quickly forward! and let loose the dogs.’ And immediately eight large dogs sprang to earth.
Meanwhile Vomhammel had approached to within sixty feet of the boar, then he stopped, took aim, and fired three times in rapid succession, without any shot, however, taking effect. Slowly the monster raised his great broad head at the noise, then at sight of the disturber of his peace he gave vent to a series of grunts, and struck his mighty tusks on the ground. Vomhammel’s courage instantly vanished, and, letting fall his revolver, he quickly ran back. ‘Here! here!’ called Ivan, and with such strides as never were seen, Vomhammel made for the rapidly approaching sledge. But the boar was as quick as he, and apparently meant to avenge himself for the insult done him. Lowering his head, he rushed after the flying enemy, ploughing up the snow with his tusks. Soon he was close upon him, and Vomhammel seemed lost, as there was still a considerable distance to cover before he could reach the sledge. Just then a shot rang out, and the boar fell forward. Wultkiewicz had fired a shot at him from a distance of about thirty feet. Immediately the boar was on its feet again, though limping on a fore leg; the short delay, however, had been enough to save poor Vomhammel. As the boar, blinded with rage, hurled itself against the sledge its victim’s long body was already safe, only his legs hanging down on the wrong side. A blow from the boar’s tusks hitting one of those long lank limbs, ripped up the boot from top to bottom. Ivan, with his powerful left hand, firmly grasped Vomhammel’s body, and thus rescued him from further attack, while with the right he dealt the boar a spear thrust. The dogs also flung themselves on the monster, which was attacking the sledge so furiously that it certainly would have been overturned but for good driving. When at last the remainder of the party appeared on the field of battle, the boar, after a hot struggle, had been completely vanquished, some pikes had been bent and broken in the combat, and one dog had paid for his valour with his life. The other hunters had a large sow to show as their spoil, which they had succeeded in slaying without any mishap to themselves.
When all had reassembled on the scene Fräulein Anna’s eye fell upon Vomhammel, who lay all huddled up on the sledge. When she saw the gaping rent in the boot, she exclaimed: ‘See, Herr Vomhammel is terribly wounded!’
Everybody ran to look, but found after all that the boar’s tusks had torn nothing but cloth and shoe-leather.
‘God be thanked,’ exclaimed Anna, ‘that it is no worse! ‘
Vomhammel had the satisfaction of being for some time after that the hero of the day, and his beloved Anna has never again twitted him with lack of courage.