Pinecoffin wrote that pomegranate-seed was the best cure forhog-skin， and suggested—for the past fourteen months hadwearied him—that Nafferton should “raise his pigs before hetanned them.”
Nafferton went back to the second section of his fifthquestion.
How could the exotic Pig be brought to give as much porkas it did in the West and yet “assume the essentially hirsutecharacteristics of its oriental congener？” Pinecoffin felt dazed，for he had forgotten what he had written sixteen month’sbefore， and fancied that he was about to reopen the entirequestion. He was too far involved in the hideous tangle toretreat， and， in a weak moment， he wrote：—“Consult my firstletter.” Which related to the Dravidian Pig. As a matter of fact，Pinecoffin had still to reach the acclimatization stage； havinggone off on a side-issue on the merging of types.
THEN Nafferton really unmasked his batteries！ He complainedto the Government， in stately language， of “the paucity of helpaccorded to me in my earnest attempts to start a potentiallyremunerative industry， and the flippancy with which myrequests for information are treated by a gentleman whosepseudo-scholarly attainments should at lest have taughthim the primary differences between the Dravidian and theBerkshire variety of the genus Sus. If I am to understand thatthe letter to which he refers me contains his serious views onthe acclimatization of a valuable， though possibly uncleanly，animal， I am reluctantly compelled to believe，” etc.， etc.
There was a new man at the head of the Department ofCastigation.
The wretched Pinecoffin was told that the Service was madefor the Country， and not the Country for the Service， and thathe had better begin to supply information about Pigs.
Pinecoffin answered insanely that he had written everythingthat could be written about Pig， and that some furlough wasdue to him.
Nafferton got a copy of that letter， and sent it， with the essayon the Dravidian Pig， to a down-country paper， which printedboth in full. The essay was rather highflown； but if the Editorhad seen the stacks of paper， in Pinecoffin’s handwriting， onNafferton’s table， he would not have been so sarcastic aboutthe “nebulous discursiveness and blatant self-sufficiency of themodern Competition-wallah， and his utter inability to grasp thepractical issues of a practical question.” Many friends cut outthese remarks and sent them to Pinecoffin.
I have already stated that Pinecoffin came of a soft stock.
This last stroke frightened and shook him. He could notunderstand it； but he felt he had been， somehow， shamelesslybetrayed by Nafferton.
He realized that he had wrapped himself up in the Pigskinwithout need， and that he could not well set himself rightwith his Government. All his acquaintances asked after his“nebulous discursiveness” or his “blatant self-sufficiency，” andthis made him miserable.
He took a train and went to Nafferton， whom he had not seensince the Pig business began. He also took the cutting from thepaper， and blustered feebly and called Nafferton names， andthen died down to a watery， weak protest of the “I-say-it’s-toobad-you-know” order.
Nafferton was very sympathetic.
“I’m afraid I’ve given you a good deal of trouble， haven’t I？”
said he.
“Trouble！” whimpered Pinecoffin； “I don’t mind the troubleso much， though that was bad enough； but what I resent is thisshowing up in print. It will stick to me like a burr all throughmy service. And I DID do my best for your interminableswine. It’s too bad of you， on my soul it is！”
“I don’t know，” said Nafferton； “have you ever been stuckwith a horse？ It isn’t the money I mind， though that is badenough； but what I resent is the chaff that follows， especiallyfrom the boy who stuck me. But I think We’ll cry quite now.”
Pinecoffin found nothing to say save bad words； andNafferton smiled ever so sweetly， and asked him to dinner.
