THE STILL HUNT. 85 



animal came out. Mike drew his knife, but it was useless ; the 

 panther spent his life in that prodigious 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 '11 all come to that soon, only let 's have our traps packed 

 and 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 of a panther, and the taking off his robe, 

 is an incident that calls forth the keenest pleasure in the hunter, 

 and only he can understand the accent of pride with which Mike 

 at length held up in both hands the huge tawny skin, with its 

 pendent claws and cat-like head, saying, " Ain't that a bed for a 

 king ? " When he had completed this work, noon had long since 

 passed away, and we looked around for a spot to dine. 



Near where we had hung our first deer, on the sloping side of 

 a clay bank, a spring of water rose from the earth, " and a clearer 

 one never was seen," which, filling a natural basin among the roots 

 of the trees that overhung it, poured down the hill in a trickling 

 rivulet, and joined by other smaller springs, sought its level on 

 the great savannah, where its course could be traced by the eye 

 for a mile or more by the line of joint grass and flags that took 

 root in its waters. By this spring we carried our three saddles of 

 venison, our hog, and our panther skin, and sat ourselves down to 



