They were subject
to freaks of stupidity, and were pugnacious to a degree. Not only would
they fight if molested, but they would often attack entirely without
provocation.
Once my friend Moore himself, while out with another cowboy on
horseback, was attacked in sheer wantonness by a drove of these little
wild hogs. The two men were riding by a grove of live-oaks along a
woodcutter's cart track, and were assailed without a moment's warning.
The little creatures completely surrounded them, cutting fiercely at the
horses' legs and jumping up at the riders' feet. The men, drawing their
revolvers, dashed through and were closely followed by their pursuers
for three or four hundred yards, although they fired right and left with
good effect. Both of the horses were badly cut. On another occasion the
bookkeeper of the ranch walked off to a water hole but a quarter of a
mile distant, and came face to face with a peccary on a cattle trail,
where the brush was thick. Instead of getting out of his way the
creature charged him instantly, drove him up a small mesquite tree, and
kept him there for nearly two hours, looking up at him and champing its
tusks.
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