“What have you hit?” shouted I in return.
“A wild pig,” said he; “but bigger than Fritz's.”
“Aha! I see you remember the agouti! Perhaps it is not a hog at all, but one of our little pigs from the farm. What will the old sow say to you, Franz?”
I soon joined my boy, and found him in transports of joy over an animal certainly very much like a pig, although its snout was broad and blunt. It was covered with bristles, had no tail, and in colour was a yellowish grey.
Examining it carefully and noticing its webbed feet, and its curious teeth, I decided that it must be a capybara, a water-loving animal of South America, and Franz was overjoyed to find that he had shot “a new creature," as he said. It was difficult to carry it home, but he very sensibly proposed that we should open and clean the carcase, which would make it lighter—and then putting it in a game-bag, he carried it till quite tired out; he asked if I thought Bruno would let him strap it on his back. We found the dog willing to bear the burden, and reached Woodlands soon afterwards.
CAPYBARA.
There we were surprised to see Ernest surrounded by a number of large rats, which lay dead on the ground.
“Where can all these have come from?” exclaimed I. “Have you and your mother been rat-hunting instead of gathering rice as you intended?”
