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them. Now let’s move before my legs freeze off at the ankles.’
    It was a long, cold slog and I could not stop the trembling once it began. But there was absolutely nothingelse to do except push on. My teeth were rattling in my head like castanets before we came to the brook that bubbled down through the fields, to join the stream that we were wading in. The stars were beginning to fade; dawn was not too far away.
    ‘This is it,’ I said. ‘The stream that we want. That chopped tree is my landmark. Stay right behind me – we’re very close now.’ I reached up and brokeoff a dead branch that overhungthe stream, then led the way. We waded along until we reached a tall, electrified fence that spanned the stream. It could be clearly seen in the growing light. I used the branch to lift the bottom of the fence so Stinger could crawl under; then he did the same for me. As I stood up I heard a familiar rustle of large quills from the oak grove nearby. A large, darkform separated itself from the trees and moved towards us. I grabbed the branch from Stinger and called out softly.
    ‘Sooo-ee, sooo-ee … here swine, swine, swine.’
    There was a bubbling grunt from the boar as it approached. Stinger was muttering under his breath, curses or prayers – or both – as he stood behind me. I called again and the great creature came close. A real beauty, a tonne at least,looking at me with its small red eyes. I stepped forward and raised the branch slowly – and heard Stinger moan behind me. The boar never moved as I poked the stick behind its ear, parted the long quills – and began to scratch its hide industriously.
    ‘What are you doing? It’ll kill us!’ Stinger wailed.
    ‘Of course not,’ I said, scratching harder. ‘Listen to it?’ The porcuswine’s eyes were half-closedwith pleasure and it was burbling happily. ‘I know these big porkers well. They get vermin under their quills and can’t get at them. They love a good scratch. Let me do the other ear – there are nice itchy patches behind the ears – then we can go on.’
    I scratched, the boar moaned happily, and dawn crept up on us. A light came on in the farmhouse and we knelt down behind the porcuswine. The dooropened, someone threw out a basin of water, then it closed again.
    ‘Let’s get to the barn,’ I said. ‘This way.’
    The boar grumbled when I stopped scratching, then trotted along behind us, hoping for more, as we skulked across the farm. Which was a good thing since there were plenty more of the spikey porkers on all sides. But they moved aside when the king-pig approached and we proceeded in statelyparade to the barn.
    ‘So long, big feller,’ I said, giving a last good scratch. ‘Been nice knowing you.’ Stinger had the barn door open and we slipped inside. We had just slid the bolt again when the heavy wood trembled as our overweight companion leaned against it and snorted.
    ‘You saved my life,’ Stinger gasped. ‘I’ll never forget that.’
    ‘Just skill,’ I said humbly. ‘After all, you are goodwith fists –’
    ‘And you’re great with pigs!’
    ‘I woudn’t have phrased it
exactly
that way,’ I muttered. ‘Now let’s get up into the hayloft where it is warm – and where we won’t be seen. There is a long day ahead of us and I want to spend as much of it as I can sleeping.’
    It had been quite a night. I burrowed into the hay, sneezed twice as the dust got into my nose – then must have fallen instantlyasleep.
    The next thing I knew, Stinger was shaking me by the shoulder and sunlight was streaming between the boards in the wall. ‘Cops is here,’ he whispered.
    I blinked the sleep from my eyes and looked through the crack. A green and white police floater was hovering outside the farmhouse door and two uniformed pug-uglies were showing a sheet to the farmer. He shook his head and his voice wasclear above the farmyard sounds.
    ‘Nope. Never seen neither of them. Never seen a soul in a week if you want to