For both were trained watchdogs, But, thus early in the
day, neither duty nor companionship held them at home. And the
autumn woods promised a half-hour of mild sport.
The superintendent and his helpers were in the distant "upper
field," working around the roots of some young fruit trees. But
for the maids, busy indoors, the Place was deserted of human or
canine life.
Thus, luck was with the two intruders.
Through the fence-gap in the oak-grove, bored Titus Romaine's
hugest and oldest and crankiest sow. She was in search of acorns
and of any other food that might lie handy to her line of march.
In her owner's part of the grove, there was too much competition,
in the food-hunt, from other and equally greedy pigs of the herd.
These she could fight off and drive from the choicest
acorn-hoards. But it was easier to forage without competition.
So through the gap she forced her grunting bulk; and on through
the Place's half of the oak-grove. Pausing now and then to root
amid the strewn leaves, she made her leisurely way toward the
open lawn with its two-hundred-year-old shade-oaks, and its
flower-borders which still held a few toothsome bulbs.
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