Boar Hunting

Reb took a smooth, wooden-shafted spear. He touched the pointed blade on the end. “This thing is sharp as a razor. My Uncle Seedy, the barber, could shave with one of these things!” Then he looked at the extended blades on the side. These stuck out at right angles and were rather dull. “What are these things for?”

Loren held up his spear. “What you have to do is get this point into the boar.” His eyes shone, and his lips turned up in a grin. “But I'm telling you, these boars are tough. They'll run right up the spear and gore you to death before you can blink.”

“That doesn't sound like too much fun,” Dave muttered. “But what are these side pieces for?”

“Here's what you must do,” Loren said, demonstrating. “Shove the butt end of it into the earth. Nobody's strong enough to keep a three-hundred-pound boar at bay, so when he comes at you, let him run himself right onto this pointed blade. It'll go in up to the hilt, all the way up to these side blades, and that's what will hold him there.”

[...]

Reb saw that Loren, who was on his right, and Dave, who was on his left, were too far away. The pig was going to pass very close to Reb himself.

“Got to stop that sucker!” he mumbled. He stepped quickly into the pig's path. He could see the white froth on the boar's lips, and the yellowed tusks looked ten inches long. He vaguely heard people screaming, and someone cried, “Look, the king has fallen!”

Whipping a glance behind him, Reb saw the king sprawled on the ground and the queen trying to help him to his feet. They'll never make it, Reb thought. It's up to me!

It seemed as though time stopped, but he remembered one thing Loren had said. Put the butt of the spear in the dirt—let the boar run onto it.

He dug the hilt into the hard ground with both hands held firmly, and then the mighty boar was upon him! Its red eyes flashed with rage. Its mouth was open so wide he could count the teeth. Its bristles stood out as though electrified. And then the boar struck the end of his spear.

Though it took all his might, Reb held on. But the shock drove him backward, and the spear came loose from the earth. Now he had only his strength to hold off the pig. He felt like a pygmy as the boar roared toward him, snorting angrily.

“Got to hold him,” Reb panted.

Then the boar threw itself to one side, and the spear in Reb's hands twisted mightily, sprawling him in the dust. He held on, breathing a quick cry for help. O Goel, don't let that pig get at the king!

It was a close thing. The spear had penetrated the boar's chest. He was wounded. But he still had plenty of fight left in him.

Then, with a surge of strength Reb had not known he had, he got to his feet and wrenched the spear loose.

He heard a cry of fear from the women and a shout of warning from Loren. “Don't let him off!” The prince's voice seemed far away, but Reb knew what he had to do.

“Got to get him right in the throat.” He drew the spear back and, as the boar launched himself again, took aim. And the razor-sharp blade found its target. Reb was thrown to one side, and he felt the rip of a mighty tusk along one forearm as the spear fell from his hands.

He's got me—I'm a goner! he thought wildly. The boar's heavy weight fell on him, and he gave up all hope.

Then the weight was being lifted, and through the mist he heard Josh saying, “You all right, Reb?”

Reb sat up and wiped the blood from his face. “He must have torn my head off,” he said dazedly.

“That's not your blood,” Loren said, awe on his face. “That's the boar's blood.”

By this time, King Dion was there with the queen. “How is he?” the king asked anxiously.

“I'm all right, I reckon,” Reb said thickly. But then pain stabbed his arm, and he held it up. “I did get nicked a little here.”

Princess Elaine knelt beside him. “We've got to tie that up. He's bleeding badly.”