"
"Kill the damn'd thing," said Tam Donaldson callously, "an' it'll maybe
a lesson to the auld sot. Him an' his hens' meat! I'd let him ken that
it's no' hens' meat the collier eats--at least no' so lang as he can get
pork."
"That's jist what I think, too, Tam," put in another voice. "I'd mak'
sure work that the collier ate pork for yince. Come on, boys, an' mum's
the word," and he proceeded to drive the pig further along the village,
followed by a few enthusiastic backers. They drove it into Granny
Fleming's hen-house in the middle of the square, put out the hens, who
protested loudly against this rude and incomprehensible interruption of
their slumbers, and then they proceeded to slaughter the pig.
It was a horrible orgy, and the pig made a valiant protest, but
encountered by hammers and picks, knives and such-like weapons, the poor
animal was soon vanquished, and the men proceeded to cut up its carcass.
It was a long and trying ordeal for men who had no experience of the
work; yet they made up in enthusiasm what they lacked in science, and by
five o'clock the pig was cut up and distributed through a score of
homes. Every trace of the slaughter was removed, and the refuse buried
in the village midden, and pork was the principal article on the
breakfast table that morning in Lowwood.
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