I started at daylight, and followed the course of the stream downwards; but the bushes grew thicker and thicker, and I was about returning to cross the hill to another brook, when I caught sight of a noble stag in the thicket on my right. I crept quickly and silently round the bush to cut him off, when suddenly I heard a most heart-rending cry from a deer. My first impulse was to rush towards the sound, and on the first movement I made for this purpose, Bearsgrease bounded forwards; but I thought better of it, and a sharp whistle stopped the dog in his career. A second fainter whistle brought him to my side; then, hiding behind a tree, I reflected on what was best to be done.
The shriek certainly came from a deer, and nothing but a panther could have caused it; for if it had been a wolf, all would not have been silent again so soon, as a wolf could not have overpowered a deer so quickly.
Now, I had often heard from Americans how the panther darts on his prey, kills it in an instant, and, after eating his fill, buries or covers up the rest for a future meal. I resolved to try and make sure of the panther, and, if possible, to creep up to him unperceived. I did not then know how difficult it was to outwit a panther; but this time fortune favored me.
After waiting about half an hour, I thought I might make the attempt, and crept lightly and cautiously towards the thicket; the dog, well knowing my object, crept as silently after me. Just as I gained the edge of the thicket, and was looking out for the best place to enter it with the least noise, I heard a light rustling. My heart began to beat violently; the bush opened, and my eyes encountered the fierce orbs of the panther. Doubtless, in the first moment of surprise he did not know exactly what to do; but his surprise did not last long: a panther has a bad conscience, and justly supposes a foe in every living being not belonging to his own race; and, crouching down about twenty paces from me in the yellow grass, he was preparing either to make a spring, or to hide himself—I could not tell which. But I was not idle; during the time he stooped, my arm had recovered its steadiness, the rifle cracked, the animal made one spring upwards, and fell dead to the earth. Bearsgrease seized him on the instant, and seemed to take exquisite pleasure in shaking the skin of his deadliest foe; and he cast many a longing look behind, when, at my command, he followed up the panther’s trail. We soon came to the place where he had killed the buck, and covered it with leaves; the skin had been so mauled that it was useless, but I stripped off the panther’s, and set out on my return to my camp, deciding to go back to old Slowtrap’s, and to commence my march to the Ozark mountains as soon as possible.
On arriving at the camp I tied up the skin with strips of bark, and although I took very little of the venison with me, I had a heavy load. I reached Curly’s in the evening. As it was nearly dark, I had no fancy for crossing the river at night, and creeping for half an hour through a cane-brake, with the chance of getting my eyes poked out; so I remained with Curly. The house was small, but it contained two large bedsteads, one table, three chairs, two plates, and one cup; a hole in the wall did duty for the absent window.
We passed a very pleasant evening. Curly sang well, and gave us a number of Irish comic songs, till, tired with laughing and the severe exertions of the day, I rolled myself in my blanket, and laid myself by the fire. I was up at daybreak, and the river being low, waded through, hastened to Slowtrap’s, and spread out my skin. Slowtrap was out shooting wild fowl, which had collected in such numbers on a little river running into the Fourche le Fave, that I never saw any thing like it; they positively covered the water, and a good double-barrelled gun might have done immense havoc, particularly as the steep banks favored the approach to within thirty yards of the ducks.
Supposing the old fellow not to be far off, I took my rifle, and lounged down to the brink of the river; not with any intention of shooting, as my rifle had too large a bore; but I came upon a string of ducks, not more than fifteen yards off. This was too enticing; I raised the gun, and off went the golden green head of the largest of them. I reloaded, fished out my bird, and was turning up the stream, when I heard Slowtrap’s gun above a mile off, and as I had no intention of walking so far, I took my duck by the neck and walked home. Where was my home? Wherever I happened to be—where I had erected a bark shed, or spread my blanket, or lighted a fire, or where the hospitable roof of a farmer or backwoodsman received me; though the next morning might find me with all my goods on my back—no heavy burden—seeking new shooting-ground, and a new home. What then?—I went home, and commenced mending my old moccasins once more, though they were almost worn out; and as I had some tanned deer-skin, I cut out a new pair, for the others would have never survived a long march.
