 We'd hear the pack a-baying up the mountain loud and clear, but before we rode up to them, that old sow would disappear, or she'd rally against a boulder, bristling like a porcupine, till a dog forgot his caution, then she'd cut him into twine. Killing dogs was just a pastime to that hog. I'm telling you, with them long, curved, knife-like touches, she could slice a hound in two.