THE STILL HUNT. 131 



"To fight what?" 



*' Painter," he replied. 



I looked at the speaker, but there was not the least 

 bit of joking in his face. 



" Plow do yon know that it is a panther ?" said I, in a 

 half whisper, the skin on my head contracting in spite of 

 myself at the idea of the animal having been there where 

 I stood only five minutes before in such fancied security. 



" Wall, I know it in two ways," said Mike, in his 

 natural hearty tone, but without raising himself from his 

 stooping posture, and slowly bringing his rifle to a level, 

 " and one's 'bout's good as the tother. In the fust place, 

 thar's the mark of his foot on the grass ; and in the next 

 place, thar's the old sarpent himself under them are 

 bushes." 



I leaned down and followed the direction of Mike's 

 eye under the bushes, and truly there was the panther 

 crouched under some wild ^^lum-trees^ not forty feet oif 

 from where we stood. He was in a sitting posture, and 

 one arm was stretched out and placed on the body of the 

 hog that laid beside him. There was something hand- 

 some in that position of easy grace, with the careless 

 claim of ownership that he extended over his j^rize. I 

 caught his yellow eye, and could scarcely remove my 

 own from the fascination of its glance. lie had the air 

 of a sentinel challenging us strangers, and I, for one, felt 

 like an intruder, and had a mental desire of apologizing 

 and retiring. 



" Jist- keep steady-like," said Mike, in his usual slow 



