160 WILD SPORTS IN THE FAR WEST. 



three hours, for the first gleam of approaching day 

 was lighting up the eastern sky, when I was awakened 

 by the loud, angry bark of the dog. I jumped up, rifle 

 in hand, but could see nothing and hear nothing: I 

 cheered on the dog, but in vain : he would not move 

 from my side, and only barked louder and louder. I 

 fancied he might have scented wolves, and was about 

 to he dovm. again, when I distinctly heard a rustling 

 in the bush, although there was not a breath of wind. 

 I approached the place cautiously Avith both barrels 

 cocked, but could discover nothing ; and as it was still 

 dark, and no trail percejDtible, I could do no more, so 

 lay down again for another short sleep, when I sud- 

 denly heard the short piercing roar of a j^anther, which 

 those who have once heard never forget. My dog an- 

 swered it Avith a slight whimper, and crept closer to 

 my side. I now knew the character of my nightly 

 visitor; and tolerably sure that, once frightened away, 

 he vrould be in no hurry to return, I was soon asleep, 

 and remained so till awakened by the cold air wliich 

 always precedes the rising sun. 



As beautiful a panorama as I had ever beheld lay 

 sj)read out before me. A sea of forest as far as the 

 eye could reach, in every shade of color, from the 

 darkest green to light blue — the Little Red river 

 winding through the midst of it, while a light downy 

 mist Jiung about the tips of the trees on its banks. To 

 the Avest and south-west, the distant mountains cut 

 sharply in a mass of blue against the lighter morning 

 sky. Hills overgrown with pines I'ose above the 

 darker extent of oak, hke islands floating in a deep 

 green sea, as the sun's rays Avere reflected from the 



