At this time we were just opposite the small vale which lay between the Valley of the Wreck and Spouting Cliff.
"I say, Peterkin," cried Jack, in a hoarse whisper.
"Well, what is't ?" "Stay a bit, man.

These grunters are just up there on the hill side.

If you go and stand with Ralph in the lee of yon cliff, I'll cut round behind and drive them through the gorge, so that you'll have a better chance of picking out a good one.

Now, mind you pitch into a fat young pig, Peterkin," added Jack, as he sprang into the bushes.
"Won't I, just!" said Peterkin, licking his lips, as we took our station beside the cliff.

"I feel quite a tender affection for young pigs in my heart.