The Cecil Whig. [volume] (Elkton, Md.) 1841-current, 1874-11-21


ling, dropped old Ned's bride, and had to
60 off little distance to shoot, for we
were nearly under the trees they were in
| shot the young ones first. | brain shot
them. and both fell speechless from the
big limbs on which they lay, not far from
my pack horse, but the cane was so thick
he couldn't see them, and he did not get
frightened. | walked round some distance
to find good place from which to shoot
the old one. | intended to brain shoot her
for knew if | wounded her she would be
down amongst us before l could reload my
rifle, and she was very capable of hurting
some of us. She kept her face turned on
me all the time, and seemed to be deeply
interested in trying to discover what was
cracking about in the cane for. She paid
no attention to the horses. was the fellow
that engaged her attention. | could dis
tinctly see the frown that wrinkled hel
skin betwixt her round eyes, and there
planted my lead. She whirled with all her
limbs astrut and came very near falling on
old Ned, who had moved along in picking
the cane leaves to that point without my
notice. She struck the ground with a
heavy thump, and in rolling to one side,
her left fore foot came in contact with one
of his shoulders, and her sharp claws chung
little to the skin. Whereupon old Ned
took fit. He whirled and kicked the
panther with such violence that he moved
her eight or ten feet. The blow seemed to
be force enough to have killed her, had she
not been already dead. He threw off my
saddle bags and continued to kick and get
further from the panther, until he got into
the prairie, and then dashed off with all
his might. | ran out into the prairie and
called to him; but he did not slacken his
pace until he was quarter of mile.
called him often; but he wouldn't come
until | had to lie down in the grass, to
assure him the danger was over. He came
then, but | couldn't get him to enter the
timber. | had to leave him there whilst
went and brought out the pack horse.
| pursued my course over the prairie
until came to the place we had seen from
the distance. 1t was sure enough house
with a considerable family of motherless
children, and their disconsolate, lonely
father, who met me at the gate and well
coined me very warmly. | related to him
what had occurred between me and my
travelling companions. He remarked that
he was truly glad it had happened, that
he had two big cribs full of corn and plenty
in his house to eat, and that he should feel
himself greatly obliged if l agree to make
his house my home, and remain with him
for years.
| agreed to stop a while with him, until
he got well enough acquainted with me to
enable him to ascertain whether he had
not, in his cordial, fraternal welcome to
me, made a mistake. Light, sir, and let
your horses go to the lot; l make no such
mistakes; | have lived in the woods long
enough to know that man who can be SO
self-reliant as to suffer himself thrown off
from his company, in an unoccupied prairie
a thousand miles in extent, with no alterna-
tive for subsistence but a small bored rifle,
n YER finds himself in fix that will force
him 10 resort to wrong action. consider
the circumstances that conspired to direct
you to me to be a Providential interference,
and declare you doubly welcome"
His family consisted of four sons and
two daughters. The eldest son and daugh-
ter nearly grown. They had been residing
at that place twelve years; had one neigh
Dor about two miles distant in the timber.
Their mother had been dead but few
months. They all gathered around and
were evidently greatly rejoiced at my pres
ence. [ remained with them, receiving
their kind attentions and doing everything
| could to reciprocate their kindness.
But my business was to explore the
country and / was getting restless. Jesse
Durham, the owner of the place, was as
good a man as any country or situation
could produce: and when | explained to
him the nature of my mission, lie calmly
said, Well, make this your home to re-
turn to and recruit when you are tired, or
anything happens"
SO concluded to leave my luggage and
pack horse with him, and taking my two
blankets and my saddle; my good five
pound axe under my saddle skirt; my
medical saddle bags; tin cup, two lines
and hooks, and my rifle and ammunition,
OF course, | crossed the Colorado and trav-
eled in northeast direction two days.
Turned more eastwardly on the third morn
ing, and at noon came to the big San hills,
in which heads, what now know to be the
Bernard, a little river that makes it's way
alone through the vast grassy plains to the
Gulf of Mexico.
], without any instructions, fortunately
decided to go down on the tight hand side
of the little river. carried not a particle
of any kind of provisions with me. /,
however found but little difficulty in get
ting plenty of venison. | might have shot
any amount of geese, ducks, or turkeys.
The turkeys were seen i'll every little streak
of timber; and the geese and mallard ducks
were spread out everywhere. But no kind
of fowl, when cooked at the camp, eaten
without bread or salt. is very palatable.
could make a blind of old Ned, who under
stood the manGuvre so we'll that zee rarely
failed getting meat. We didn't trouble
the birds. When l had progressed far
enough down the head branch of the little
river, for it to form large, deep holes,
took up in early evening one day, near one
of these pools. There was timber on the
low grounds, and by slipping along the
edge of it | soon got deer. | took its
back straps and piece of the liver, and
returning to camp made good fire, piling
on a good chance of wood. While the
wood was burning ] got out one of my
lines, baited the hook with chunk of the
liver, and threw it into the river. 1t had
not sunk half way down befoIe it was
grabbed, and pulling it mp found a large
blue cat had it. He came up to the top of
the water quite willingly, and there were
two or three more whirlng about in the
scented water; but my fish finding it was no
joke, turned and darted away with such force
that he came near getting my line out OF
my hand. checked him, however; when
at the full length of the line he shot up
wards so swiftly, keeping the line twanging
tight, that he threw himself a foot or two
ABOVE "aleT. ne cut up many iutlCS anu
gyrations before he gave up, and | had to
work my way around two or three trees
that grew on the bank until l got to a
shallow place at the lower end of the big
hole, before could get him out, although
| dragged him while he was tired, and
until he was fairly grounded on the pebbly
bottom of the little creek, which | could
here leap across. 1t was with some diff
ficulty that got him out. | was afraid to
trust my little line and | made it fast to a
snag near by and left him painting till ran
and got old Ned's lariat; made running
moose, threw it over his tail, and slipping
it to his strong horns in the pectoral fin,
drew it down close and then hauled hin,
out and to my camp. l judged that he
would weigh forty-four or five pounds. He
was whopper, and dwelling as he had in
very clear water, his skin was very blu.
above and white as the whitest paper
beneath. Ned came up from his grazing
to see what it was that | had dragged ul
from the water. He smelt of it, and when
it tapped it's tail, he jerkcd up his head
and, turning away to his grass, made nc
remarks.
BY the time had broiled and ate one o.
the dorsal muscles Of my little deer, had
a famous heap of Goals and embers. HAY
an fort no pari