We took the liver, alias fry, out of the pigs to eat (it is most excellent), cut off the heads of the tuskers, and hung the remaining parts on a tree to wait our return, changing our camp further up the river the same night.

The next morning early I took a stroll into the woods by myself; while looking about me I saw what I thought was a large animal sleeping in the bushes.

I began accordingly to stalk him.

I got within eighty yards, put my gun up to shoot, but as I could not pitch on a vital part to aim at, only seeing a mass of what was evidently an animal rolled up, I went nearer and nearer; in fact, little by little, I got within ten yards of the quarry; then I fired a ball into what I now saw was a huge pig.

No move! What did it mean?
I could not have killed it sleeping.