LEOPARD-HUNTING.
The leopard of Southern Africa is known among the Cape colonists by the name of tiger; but is, in fact, the real leopard, the Felis jubata of naturalists, well known for the beauty of its shape and spotted skin, and the treachery and fierceness of its disposition. The animal called leopard (luipaard) by the Cape Dutch boors, is a species of the panther, and is inferior to the real leopard in size and beauty. Both of them are dreaded in the mountainous districts on account of the ravages which they occasionally commit among the flocks, and on the young cattle and horses in the breeding season.
The South African panther is a cowardly animal, and, like the hyena, flies from the face of man. The leopard also, though his low, half-smothered growl is frequently heard by night, as he prowls like an evil spirit around the cottage or the kraal, will seldom or never attack mankind, (children excepted,) unless previously assailed or exasperated. When hunted, as he usually is with dogs, he instinctively betakes himself to a tree, when he falls an easy prey to the shot of the huntsman. The leopard, however, though far inferior in strength and intrepidity to the lion, is yet an exceedingly active and furious animal; and when driven to extremity, proves himself occasionally an antagonist not to be trifled with. The colonists relate many instances of arduous and even fatal encounters with the hunted leopard. The following is one of these adventures, which occurred in a frontier district in 1822, as described by one of the two individuals so perilously engaged in it.
Two boors returning from hunting the Hartebeest, (antelope bubalis,) fell in with a leopard in a mountain ravine, and immediately gave chase to him. The animal at first endeavoured to escape by clambering up a precipice; but being hotly pressed, and slightly wounded by a musket-ball, he turned upon his pursuers with that frantic ferocity which on such emergencies he frequently displays, and springing upon the man who had fired at him, tore him from his horse to the ground, biting him at the same time very severely in the shoulder, and tearing his face and arms with his talons. The other hunter, seeing the danger of his comrade, (he was, if I mistake not, his brother,) sprung from his horse, and attempted to shoot the leopard through the head; but, whether owing to trepidation, or the fear of wounding his friend, or the sudden motions of the animal, he unfortunately missed.
The leopard, abandoning his prostrate enemy, darted with redoubled fury upon this second antagonist; and so fierce and sudden was his onset, that before the boor could stab him with his hunting-knife, he had struck him in the eyes with his claws, and torn the scalp over his forehead. In this frightful condition the hunter grappled with the raging beast, and struggling for life, they rolled together down a steep declivity. All this passed so rapidly, that the other boor had scarcely time to recover from the confusion in which his feline foe had left him, to seize his gun, and rush forward to aid his comrade, when he beheld them rolling together down the steep bank in mortal conflict. In a few moments he was at the bottom with them, but too late to save the life of his friend. The leopard had torn open the jugular vein, and so dreadfully mangled the throat of the unfortunate man, that his death was inevitable; and his comrade had only the melancholy satisfaction of completing the destruction of the savage beast, already exhausted with several deep wounds in the breast from the desperate knife of the expiring huntsman.—London Weekly Review.