132 WILD SPORTS IN THE SOUTH. 



tone, " Don't move fast, but step a leetle away from me, 

 and ef I miss him he will come out, and then you try." 



As he finished speaking, his rifle was at his shoulder, 

 arid the clear report of the piece was followed by a rush- 

 ing bound as the animal came out. Mike drew his knife, 

 but it was useless ; the panther spent his life in that pro- 

 digious leap, and lay dead on the grass. The rifle 

 ball had gone through his brain. . 



"Ha!" said Mike, with a prolonged accent and strong 

 out-breathing that showed the force of his feelings. 

 Then, leaning down and laying his hand on the tawny 

 face of his fallen foe, he caressed him as he would have 

 done a child, smoothing his cheek and lifting his paw, 

 and speaking to him. in the proud yet tender way he 

 would have spoken to his sweetheart. " And ye be a 

 purty critter ; yer eyes has babies in 'em. My beauty, 

 didn't you know me when you squatted thar? I've 

 knowed you, pet, I reckon, when yer were quite a 

 youngster. I've seen you sleepin? on my coat like any 

 cat. I've watched you almost ever since, and heerd of 

 all yer doin's. Yer forgot me, but I didn't forgit you, 

 no how at all, little yaller back, and now yer dead, poor 

 thing. Wall, wall, we'll all come to that soon, only let's 

 have our traps all ready. I wish, Lou Jackson could see 

 you where you're layin'." 



When this funeral address was ended, we dragged the 

 body out of the bushes into a more open place, to take 

 off the skin. The shooting of deer was an every-day 

 work, and they were skinned in a minute ; but the death 



