Once the boar perceived his hunters he paid no further attention to the dogs.

He fixed his gleaming, sanguinary eyes upon them; but his only movement was a snapping of the jaws, which he brought together with a threatening sound.

Roland watched the scene for an instant, evidently desirous of flinging himself into the midst of the group, knife in hand, to slit the boar's throat as a butcher would that of a calf or a pig.

This impulse was so apparent that Sir John caught his arm, and little Edouard exclaimed: "Oh! brother, let me shoot the boar!" Roland restrained himself, and stacking his gun against a tree, waited, armed only with his hunting-knife, which he had drawn from its sheath.
"Very well," said he, "shoot him; but be careful about it." "Oh! don't worry," retorted the child, between his set teeth.

His face was pale but resolute as he aimed the barrel of his rifle at the animal's head.
"If he misses him, or only wounds him," observed Sir John, "you know that the brute will be upon us before we can see him through the smoke." "I know it, my lord; but I am accustomed to these hunts," replied Roland, his nostrils quivering, his eyes sparkling, his lips parted: "Fire, Edouard!" The shot followed the order upon the instant; but after the shot, with, or even before it, the beast, swift as lightning, rushed upon the child.
A second shot followed the first, but the animal's scarlet eyes still gleamed through the smoke.