CHAPTER II.
Colonel Sterett's Panther Hunt,
"Panthers, what we-all calls 'mountain lions,'" observed the OldCattleman, wearing meanwhile the sapient air of him who feels equippedof his subject, "is plenty furtive, not to say mighty sedyoolous toskulk. That's why a gent don't meet up with more of 'em whilepirootin' about in the hills. Them cats hears him, or they sees him,an' him still ignorant tharof; an' with that they bashfully withdraws.Which it's to be urged in favour of mountain lions that they neverforces themse'fs on no gent; they're shore considerate, that a-way, an'speshul of themse'fs. If one's ever hurt, you can bet it won't be aaccident. However, it ain't for me to go 'round impugnin' the motivesof no mountain lion; partic'lar when the entire tribe is strangers tome complete. But still a love of trooth compels me to concede that ifmountain lions ain't cowardly, they're shore cautious a lot. Cattlean' calves they passes up as too bellicose, an' none of 'em ever facesany anamile more warlike than a baby colt or mebby a half-grown deer.I'm ridin' along the Caliente once when I hears a crashin' in thebushes on the bluff above--two hundred foot high, she is, an' as sheeras the walls of this yere tavern. As I lifts my eyes, a fear-frenziedmare an' colt comes chargin' up an' projects themse'fs over theprecipice an' lands in the valley below. They're dead as JooliusCaesar when I rides onto 'em, while a brace of mountain lions isskirtin' up an' down the aige of the bluff they leaps from, mewin' an'lashin' their long tails in hot enthoosiasm. Shore, the cats has beenchasin' the mare an' foal, an' they locoes 'em to that extent theydon't know where they're headin' an' makes the death jump I relates. Ibangs away with my six-shooter, but beyond givin' the mountain lions aconvulsive start I can't say I does any execootion. They turns an'goes streakin' it through the pine woods like a drunkard to a barnraisin'.
"Timid? Shore! They're that timid seminary girls compared to 'em isas sternly courageous as a passel of buccaneers. Out in Mitchell'scanyon a couple of the Lee-Scott riders cuts the trail of a mountainlion and her two kittens. Now whatever do you-all reckon this oldtabby does? Basely deserts her offsprings without even barin' a tooth,an' the cow-punchers takes 'em gently by their tails an' beats outtheir joovenile brains. That's straight; that mother lion goesswarmin' up the canyon like she ain't got a minute to live. An' youcan gamble the limit that where a anamile sees its children perishwithout frontin' up for war, it don't possess the commonest roodimentsof sand. Sech, son, is mountain lions.
"It's one evenin' in the Red Light when Colonel Sterett, who's gotthrough his day's toil on that Coyote paper he's editor of, onfoldsconcernin' a panther round-up which he pulls off in his yooth.
"'This panther hunt,' says Colonel Sterett, as he fills his thirdtumbler, 'occurs when mighty likely I'm goin' on seventeen winters.I'm a leader among my young companions at the time; in fact, I allersis. An' I'm proud to say that my soopremacy that a-way is doo to thedom'nant character of my intellects. I'm ever bright an' sparklin' asa child, an' I recalls how my aptitoode for learnin' promotes me to beregyarded as the smartest lad in my set. If thar's visitors, to theschool, or if the selectmen invades that academy to sort o' size us up,the teacher allers plays me on 'em. I'd go to the front for theoutfit. Which I'm wont on sech harrowin' o'casions to recite aode--the teacher's done wrote it himse'f--an' which is entitledNapoleon's Mad Career. Thar's twenty-four stanzas to it; an' whilethese interlopin' selectmen sets thar lookin' owley an' sagacious, I'dwallop loose with the twenty-four verses, stampin' up and down, an'accompanyin' said recitations with sech a multitood of recklessgestures, it comes plenty clost to backin' everybody plumb outen theroom. Yere's the first verse:
I'd drink an' sw'ar an' r'ar an' t'ar An' fall down in the mud, While the y'earth for forty miles about Is kivered with my blood.
"'You-all can see from that speciment that our schoolmaster ain'tsimply flirtin' with the muses when he originates that epic; no sir, hemeans business; an' whenever I throws it into the selectmen, I does itjestice. The trustees used to silently line out for home when Ifinishes, an' never a yeep. It stuns 'em; it shore fills 'em to thebrim!
"'As I gazes r'arward,' goes on the Colonel, as by one rapt impulse heuplifts both his eyes an' his nosepaint, 'as I gazes r'arward, I says,on them sun-filled days, an' speshul if ever I gets betrayed intotalkin' about 'em, I can hardly t'ar myse'f from the subject. Iexplains yeretofore, that not only by inclination but by birth, I'm ashore-enough 'ristocrat. This captaincy of local fashion I assoomes ata tender age. I wears the record as the first child to don shoesthroughout the entire summer in that neighbourhood; an' many a time an'oft does my yoothful but envy-eaten compeers lambaste me for theinsultin' innovation. But I sticks to my moccasins; an' to-day shoesin the Bloo Grass is almost as yooniversal as the licker habit.
"'Thar dawns a hour, however, when my p'sition in the van of Kaintucky_ton_ comes within a ace of bein' ser'ously shook. It's on my way toschool one dewey mornin' when I gets involved all inadvertent in aonhappy rupture with a polecat. I never does know how themisonderstandin' starts. After all, the seeds of said dispoote is byno means important; it's enough to say that polecat finally has methoroughly convinced.
Followin' the difference an' my defeat, I'm witless enough to keepgoin' on to school, whereas I should have returned homeward an' castmyse'f upon my parents as a sacred trust. Of course, when I'm inschool I don't go impartin' my troubles to the other chil'en; Iemyoolates the heroism of the Spartan boy who stands to be eat by afox, an' keeps 'em to myself. But the views of my late enemy is not tobe smothered; they appeals to my young companions; who tharupon puts upa most onneedful riot of coughin's an' sneezin's. But nobody knows meas the party who's so pungent.
"'It's a tryin' moment. I can see that, once I'm located, I'm goin' tobe as onpop'lar as a b'ar in a hawg pen; I'll come tumblin' from mypinnacle in that proud commoonity as the glass of fashion an' the moldof form. You can go your bottom peso, the thought causes me to feelplenty perturbed.
"'At this peril I has a inspiration; as good, too, as I ever entertainswithout the aid of rum. I determines to cast the opprobrium on someother boy an' send the hunt of gen'ral indignation sweepin' along histrail.
"'Thar's a innocent infant who's a stoodent at this temple of childishlearnin' an' his name is Riley Bark. This Riley is one of them giantchildren who's only twelve an' weighs three hundred pounds. An' inproportions as Riley is a son of Anak, physical, he's dwarfed mental;he ain't half as well upholstered with brains as a shepherd dog.That's right; Riley's intellects, is like a fly in a saucer of syrup,they struggles 'round plumb slow. I decides to uplift Riley to thepublic eye as the felon who's disturbin' that seminary's sereenity.Comin' to this decision, I p'ints at him where he's planted four seatsahead, all tangled up in a spellin' book, an' says in a loud whisper toa child who's sittin' next:
"'Throw him out!'
"'That's enough. No gent will ever realise how easy it is to direct apeople's sentiment ontil he take a whirl at the game. In two minutesby the teacher's bull's-eye copper watch, every soul knows it's poreRiley; an' in three, the teacher's done drug Riley out doors by theha'r of his head an' chased him home. Gents, I look back on thatyoothful feat as a triumph of diplomacy; it shore saves my standin' asthe Beau Brummel of the Bloo Grass.
"'Good old days, them!' observes the Colonel mournfully, 'an' onesnever to come ag'in! My sternest studies is romances, an' theperoosals of old tales as I tells you-all prior fills me full of mossan' mockin' birds in equal parts. I reads deep of _Walter Scott_ an'waxes to be a sharp on Moslems speshul. I dreams of the Siege of Acre,an' Richard the Lion Heart; an' I simply can't sleep nights for honin'to hold a tournament an' joust a whole lot for some fair lady's love.
"'Once I commits the error of my career by joustin' with my brotherJeff. This yere Jeff is settin' on the bank of the Branch fishin' forbullpouts at the time, an' Jeff don't know I'm hoverin' near at all.Jeff's reedic'lous fond of fishin'; which he'd sooner fish than read_Paradise Lost_. I'm romancin' along,
sim'larly bent, when I notesJeff perched on the bank. To my boyish imagination Jeff at once turnsto be a Paynim. I drops my bait box, couches my fishpole, an' emittin'a impromptoo warcry, charges him. It's the work of a moment; Jeff'sonhossed an' falls into the Branch.
"'But thar's bitterness to follow vict'ry. Jeff emerges like Dianafrom the bath an' frales the wamus off me with a club. Talk of puttin'a crimp in folks! Gents when Jeff's wrath is assuaged I'm all on oneside like the leanin' tower of Pisa. Jeff actooally confers a skew-geeto my spinal column.
"'A week later my folks takes me to a doctor. That practitioner putson his specs an' looks me over with jealous care.
"'"Whatever's wrong with him, Doc?" says my father.
"'"Nothin'," says the physician, "only your son Willyum's five inchesout o' plumb."
"'Then he rigs a contraption made up of guy-ropes an' stay-laths, an' Ihas to wear it; an' mebby in three or four weeks he's got me warpedback into the perpendic'lar.'
"'But how about this cat hunt?" asks Dan Boggs. 'Which I don't aim tobe introosive none, but I'm camped yere through the second drinkwaitin' for it, an' these procrastinations is makin' me kind o' batty.'
"'That panther hunt is like this,' says the Colonel turnin' to Dan.'At the age of seventeen, me an' eight or nine of my intimate bravecomrades founds what we-all denom'nates as the "Chevy Chase Huntin'Club." Each of us maintains a passel of odds an' ends of dogs, an' atstated intervals we convenes on hosses, an' with these fourscore cursat our tails goes yellin' an' skally-hootin' up an' down thecountryside allowin' we're shore a band of Nimrods.
"'The Chevy Chasers ain't been in bein' as a institootion over longwhen chance opens a gate to ser'ous work. The deep snows in theEastern mountains it looks like has done drove a panther into ourneighbourhood. You could hear of him on all sides. Folks glimpses himnow an' then. They allows he's about the size of a yearlin' calf; an'the way he pulls down sech feeble people as sheep or lays desolate somehe'pless henroost don't bother him a bit. This panther spreads ahorror over the county. Dances, pra'er meetin's, an' even pokerparties is broken up, an' the social life of that region begins to bogdown. Even a weddin' suffers; the bridesmaids stayin' away lest thisferocious monster should show up in the road an' chaw one of 'em whileshe's _en route_ for the scene of trouble. That's gospel trooth! thepore deserted bride has to heel an' handle herse'f an' never a friendto yoonite her sobs with hers doorin' that weddin' ordeal. The oldladies present shakes their heads a heap solemn.
"'"It's a worse augoory," says one, "than the hoots of a score ofsquinch owls."
"'When this reign of terror is at its height, the local eye is rolledappealin'ly towards us Chevy Chasers. We rises to the opportoonity.Day after day we're ridin' the hills an' vales, readin' the milk whitesnow for tracks. An' we has success. One mornin' I comes up on two ofthe Brackenridge boys an' five more of the Chevy Chasers settin' ontheir hosses at the Skinner cross roads. Bob Crittenden's gone to turnme out, they says. Then they p'ints down to a handful of close-wovebresh an' stunted timber an' allows that this maraudin' cat-o-mount ishidin' thar; they sees him go skulkin' in.
"'Gents, I ain't above admittin' that the news puts my heart to acanter. I'm brave; but conflicts with wild an' savage beasts is to mea novelty an' while I faces my fate without a flutter, I'm yere to sayI'd sooner been in pursoot of minks or raccoons or some varmint whosegrievous cap'bilities I can more ackerately stack up an' in whose merryways I'm better versed. However, the dauntless blood of my grandsiremounts in my cheek; an' as if the shade of that old Trojan is tharpersonal to su'gest it, I searches forth a flask an' renoos my sperit;thus qualified for perils, come in what form they may, I resolootelystands my hand.
"'Thar's forty dogs if thar's one in our company as we pauses at theSkinner crossroads. An' when the Crittenden yooth returns, he bringswith him the Rickett boys an' forty added dogs. Which it's worth aten-mile ride to get a glimpse of that outfit of canines! Thar's everysort onder the canopy: thar's the stolid hound, the alert fice, thesapient collie; that is thar's individyool beasts wherein the hound, orfice, or collie seems to preedominate as a strain. The trooth isthar's not that dog a-whinin' about our hosses' fetlocks who ain'tproudly descended from fifteen different tribes, an' they shorely makesa motley mass meetin'. Still, they're good, zealous dogs; an' asthey're going to go for'ard an' take most of the resks of that panther,it seems invidious to criticise 'em.
"'One of the Twitty boys rides down an' puts the eighty or more dogsinto the bresh. The rest of us lays back an' strains our eyes. Tharhe is! A shout goes up as we descries the panther stealin' off by afar corner. He's headin' along a hollow that's full of bresh an' babytimber an' runs parallel with the pike. Big an' yaller he is; we cantell from the slight flash we gets of him as he darts into a secondclump of bushes. With a cry--what young Crittenden calls a "viewhalloo,"--we goes stampedin' down the pike in pursoot.
"'Our dogs is sta'nch; they shore does themse'fs proud. Singin' intwenty keys, reachin' from growls to yelps an' from yelps to shrillestscreams, they pushes dauntlessly on the fresh trail of their terrifiedquarry. Now an' then we gets a squint of the panther as he skulks fromone copse to another jest ahead. Which he's goin' like a arrow; nomistake! As for us Chevy Chasers, we parallels the hunt, an'continyoos poundin' the Skinner turnpike abreast of the pack, ever an'anon givin' a encouragin' shout as we briefly sights our game.
"'Gents,' says Colonel Sterett, as he ag'in refreshes himse'f, 'it'sneedless to go over that hunt in detail. We hustles the flyin' demonfull eighteen miles, our faithful dogs crowdin' close an' breathless athis coward heels. Still, they don't catch up with him; he streaks itlike some saffron meteor.
"'Only once does we approach within strikin' distance; that's when hecrosses at old Stafford's whiskey still. As he glides into view,Crittenden shouts:
"'"Thar he goes!"
"'For myse'f I'm prepared. I've got one of these misguidedcap-an'-ball six-shooters that's built doorin' the war; an' I cuts thathardware loose! This weepon seems a born profligate of lead, for thesix chambers goes off together. Which you should have seen the ChevyChasers dodge! An' well they may; that broadside ain't in vain! Myaim is so troo that one of the r'armost dogs evolves a howl an' rollsover; then he sets up gnawin' an' lickin' his off hind laig in franticalternations. That hunt is done for him. We leaves him doctorin'himse'f an' picks him up two hours later on our triumphant return.
"'As I states, we harries that foogitive panther for eighteen miles an'in our hot ardour founders two hosses. Fatigue an' weariness begins tooverpower us; also our prey weakens along with the rest. In the halfglimpses we now an' ag'in gets of him its plain that both pace an'distance is tellin' fast. Still, he presses on; an' as thar's no spurlike fear, that panther holds his distance.
"'But the end comes. We've done run him into a rough, wild stretch ofcountry where settlements is few an' cabins roode. Of a sudden, thepanther emerges onto the road an' goes rackin' along the trail. Wepushes our spent steeds to the utmost.
"'Thar's a log house ahead; out in the stump-filled lot in front is afrowsy woman an' five small children. The panther leaps the ricketyworm-fence an' heads straight as a bullet for the cl'arin'! Horrors!the sight freezes our marrows! Mad an' savage, he's doo to bite a hunkouten that devoted household! Mutooally callin' to each other, wegoads our hosses to the utmost. We gain on the panther! He may woundbut he won't have time to slay that fam'ly.
"'Gents, it's a soopreme moment! The panther makes for the femalesquatter an' her litter, we pantin' an' pressin' clost behind. Thepanther is among 'em; the woman an' the children seems transfixed bythe awful spectacle an' stands rooted with open eyes an' mouths. Ouremotions shore beggars deescriptions.
"'Now ensooes a scene to smite the hardiest of us with dismay. Nosooner does the panther find himse'f in the midst of that he'pless bevyof little ones, than he stops, turns round abrupt, an' sets down on histail; an' then upliftin' his muzzle he busts into
shrieks an' yells an'howls an' cries, a complete case of dog hysterics! That's what he is,a great yeller dog; his reason is now a wrack because we harasses himthe eighteen miles.
"'Thar's a ugly outcast of a squatter, mattock in hand, comes tumblin'down the hillside from some'ers out back of the shanty where he's beengrubbin':
"'"What be you-all eediots chasin' my dog for?" demands this onkemptparty. Then he menaces us with the implement.
"'We makes no retort but stands passive. The great orange brute whosenerves has been torn to rags creeps to the squatter an' with mournfulhowls explains what we've made him suffer.
"'No, thar's nothin' further to do an' less to be said. Thatcavalcade, erstwhile so gala an' buoyant, drags itself wearilyhomeward, the exhausted dogs in the r'ar walkin' stiff an' sore liketheir laigs is wood. For more'n a mile the complainin' howls of thehysterical yeller dog is wafted to our y'ears. Then they ceases; an'we figgers his sympathizin' master has done took him into the shantyan' shet the door.
"'No one comments on this adventure, not a word is heard. Each issilent ontil we mounts the Big Murray hill. As we collects ourse'fs onthis eminence one of the Brackenridge boys holds up his hand for ahalt. "Gents," he says, as--hosses, hunters an' dogs--we-all gathers'round, "gents, I moves you the Chevy Chase Huntin' Club yereby standsadjourned _sine die_." Thar's a moment's pause, an' then as by oneimpulse every gent, hoss an' dog, says "Ay!" It's yoonanimous, an'from that hour till now the Chevy Chase Huntin' Club ain't been nothin'save tradition. But that panther shore disappears; it's the end of hisvandalage; an' ag'in does quadrilles, pra'rs, an poker resoom theirwonted sway. That's the end; an' now, gents, if Black Jack will caperto his dooties we'll uplift our drooped energies with the usual fortydrops."