A moment later I realized the situation. A
party of hogs had organized a raid, having for its object my precious
potatoes. A sure-enough "yearthquate" would have been less appalling
to me, as I have always been mortally afraid of hogs. Just then one of
the invaders managed to knock aside a board and get his head in full
view. I shivered with terror, but Tempe now grasped the state of the
case, and, being "to the manner born," leaped forward to execute dire
vengeance on the unfortunate hog. Seizing a burning stick from the
fire, she rushed upon the intruder, who had gotten wedged so that
advance or retreat was alike impossible. Her angry cries, and the
piercing squeals of the hog, roused all in the vicinity. Help soon
came, our enemies were routed, quiet was restored. My pones were a
great success. All who were allowed by their surgeons partook of them.
I had two immense pans full brought to my cabin, where those who were
able brought their plates and cups, receiving a generous quantity of
the pone and a cup of sweet milk.
But these struggles and hardships were nothing in comparison to what
was now to befall us. The constant fighting and daily-increasing
number of wounded at the front required the presence of experienced
surgeons.
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