Hogs

Ticen J. Byram, 56, hitched up his team one cold morning last fortnight, drove with his wife into Dove Creek, Colo. When they got back to their ranch that afternoon Mrs. Byram hurried into the house to build a fire. "I'll be in as soon as I put the horses away," said her husband.

After an hour Mrs. Byram began to wonder what was keeping him. She went out to look. Down by the barn the hogs were grunting excitedly. Packed together, snouts inward, they were lunging, biting, chewing at something big. She came closer and then, screaming, seized a club to beat the animals away from the thing they were eating. Its face was gone, but she knew what it was.

The coroner reconstructed the horrid hour. An apoplectic stroke had felled Rancher Byram. As he lay unconscious, his hogs came. . . .

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