CHAPTER VIII. 



THE PANTHER. 



JN a certain day in winter, I was wandering 

 among the forests which extend or in those 

 times did extend along the line of the great 

 Erie Railroad. I was accompanied by two 

 friends, who were tried and skilful hunters. We were 

 all three mounted on the horses of the country, armed 

 with rifles, and attended by a pack of six dogs. 



The particular wood into whose depths we had strayed 

 was thick and tangled, composed of cedars, cypresses, and 

 reeds, and besprinkled so to speak with basins of water, 

 which, in Louisiana, are called bayous, and in the Nor- 

 thern States ponds. The densest shadow prevailed in the 

 forest, which appeared to be frequented by numerous 

 animals of all descriptions. The atmosphere was heavy, 



(414) g 



