Dole and his wife, I learned later, had gone away for
the day on a visit, and had left the boy alone to do the chores--among
other things to feed the hogs at noon; but as Ike had tugged at the
heavy trapdoor to raise it, he had slipped and fallen down through the
hole.
The four gaunt, savage old hogs that were in the pen were hungry and
fierce. Even a grown person would have been in danger from the beasts.
The pen, too, was knee-deep in soft muck and was as dark as a dungeon.
In his efforts to escape the hogs, the boy had wallowed round in the
muck. The hole was out of his reach, and the sty was strongly planked up
to the barn floor on all sides.
At last he had got hold of a dirty piece of broken board; backing into
one corner of the pen, he had tried, as the hogs came "barking" up to
him, to defend himself by striking them on their noses. They had bitten
his arms and almost torn his clothes off him.
The little fellow had been in the pen for almost two hours, and plainly
could not hold out much longer. Prompt action was necessary.
At first I was at a loss to know how to reach him. I was afraid of those
hogs myself, and did not dare to climb down into the pen.
Pages:
255
256
257
258
259
260
261
262
263
264
265
266
267
268
269
270
271
272
273
274
275
276
277
278
279