362 WILD SCENES AND WILD HUNTERS. 
when I looked up, I was surprised to find that the sun was 
setting. But I had no longer to complain of the stillness. 
This was the signal for the voices of the wilderness to break 
forth. 
A long, screeching cry, that seemed right at my ear, made 
my blood curdle. I looked around. The limbs of a live oak, 
near, were rustling and swaying, as under some great weight. 
The head of a panther peered out from between two bunches 
of moss. We looked at each other very coolly. He stretched 
his white throat from the covert, turned up his nose and 
snuffed towards me. He smelt the blood. His eyes were 
very large and gleaming, but he looked innocent enough; 
his face seemed so good-natured and familiar, that I felt for 
the moment we must be old acquaintances, that I ought to 
offer to take his paw. There’s no harm in him! 
He stretched his jaws to scream again, and I saw his 
long, white fangs: the cat tribe are well furnished about the 
jaws. But, horror! his cry has a dozen echoes all around, 
far away and near. What a caterwauling! God of heaven! 
it is said they like man’s meat the best! Oh! but these are 
simple boors, uncontaminated by luxurious tastes. They 
won't know any better, unless they have heard the tradition. 
But, then, it is something of a risk if they haven’t. What 
shall I do? Shoot that meek-looking panther in the eyes? 
Dead panthers tell no tales! 
No, the Indians will hear the gun, and I shall have them 
awarming through the ridges, to-morrow, sky-larking. That 
won’t do. What then? Why, I'll climb to the top of this 
live oak, so that these nimble gentry can’t get above me, 
unless they jump out of the moon; and I'll tie myself up 
there, and swing about ’till morning. So long as I’m above 
"em, I’m safe, for I can see their eyes as they come up, and 
rake down the limb. 
This conclusion was forthwith acted upon. I didn’t like 
that panther to stand there watching me, though, for he 
