By Robert B. Nancarrow
I had just been thrown from the sled, when John, my guide, prematurely threw out the anchor before the sled had slowed enough for a safe dismounting. I landed on my chest, with my rifle under me, sliding across the ice in the snow. We had tried to intercept a large boar that had been pursuing a sow, with two year-old cubs. We just weren’t quick enough. The boar had reached the new ice, and was quickly on its way to the rough ice.
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