Uncle Dick and Lisa's Old Time Animal Tales

They tried to Uproot Tree in Which Hunter Had Taken Refuge.
J. P. McGee, of this place, has just had an experience that has thickly flecked his auburn hair with grey.
He is an ardent sportsman, and early Christmas morning hastened to that sportsman’s paradise, Cookson, on the Illinois.
His luck was good, and by 2 o’clock he had succeeded in filling his bag, and was thinking of returning home, when his attention was attracted by a rustling in the cane, and he discovered a young pig rolling in the soft earth.
He raised his gun, fired, and wounded the pig.
Its squeals of agony were answered by hundreds of ferocious grunts, and from every side the enraged animals came pouring in.
McGee is a Scotch-Irishman, a cool, clever, quick-witted chap, and he realized in an instant that he was up against a hard proposition, but his coolness and presence of mind never deserted him.
A small pecan tree stood near, and in a moment he was safely ensconced amid its topmost branches, and quite beyond the reach of any hog. The animals kept coming in from every quarter, and it soon appeared that there were thousands in the drove. The grunting, snouting, and squealing was appalling, and the appearance of the animals themselves, with red, fiery eyes, and foamflecked jaws, no less so.
McGee felt reasonably safe, as it seemed impossible for the enraged animals to reach his refuge, and the worst he anticipated was a long roost in the tree. The wild hogs glared up at him and leaped high in the air, but failed to reach the quarry. Time and again the larger hogs made the attempt, but at last all seemed to understand the futility of further trial.
Four immense wild boars suddenly began rooting as if for life at the root of the tree. The now thoroughly terrified hunter gave himself up for lost. He understood the intention of the hogs-to uproot the tree, and thus secure their enemy. He was entirely helpless; nothing he could do would postpone his fate a fleeting moment.
The hogs rooted in a rapid manner, and from his perch the unwilling watcher peered down upon them.
Fortunately for him a pecan tree has a taproot, and the root of this tree seemed to fill a crevice or interstice in the rock, and when this was reached the efforts of the animals was unavailing, although time and again they renewed them with savage energy.
All through the night the hogs kept on guard, but as day began to break they gradually began to diminish in numbers, and by sun-up none were left.
Cautiously the tired hunter descended from his tree and made his way to J. H. Goodson’s, who at once brought him to this place in his carriage. He is very nervous and weak at present, but the doctors say he will be himself again in a few days.-Bragg [I. T.] correspondence St. Louis Republic.