The morning news. [volume] (Savannah, Ga.) 1887-1900, 1891-07-26
ONE SHOT THAT COUNTED.
The Hope of a Family Camp Wher
Attacked by a Huge Panther.
From the ST. Loui, Globe Democrat


From the st. Louis Globe Democrat
DALLAS July NO" said one of the
guests at the Mcleod yesterday to a
group of gentlemen in the corridor, ~ am
no hunter and have never pretended to be
| one, but did a pretty bit of shooting once,
not very far from where we are talking
now, that just about saved my life and pos
sibly other lives, too"
The gentleman, who is old but never
prosy, Immediately had an interested au-
| dIence
Il am a pretty quiet citizen now" he
went on, "bus about forty years ago | was
lively enough. People had to be lively that
| lived in this country then. | hunted and
| fished all up and down the Trinity for a
good many miles, and never came back
from one OF my trips without game.
but on one of these trips / came mighty
near being game myself when came home.
Dallas wasn't anything but little scatter
| ing hamlet then. | lived on farm out
here about ten miles, on the other side of
the river. and | used to come here to mill.
leave my wagons over on the other side,
| where Oak Cliff now is, and bring my corn
over in a boat Sometimes it took us a
week, for so many would be ahead Of us,
and we would have TO wait till our turn
| came
cone time | came with one wagon and
brought my wife and the two babies with
me. We camped over there. just about
where the dummy line strikes the hills, and
after the first day my wife got tired OF
town and stayed at the camp with the chill
| dren. She never was much of a hand for
town, anyway.
al waited around the mill all the first
day, and the second and third. On the
evening of the third day was pretty late
getting of from town, and could scarcely
see my way to the camp after got across
the river. The moon had just risen, and it
made everything vague and indistinct. [
was getting along, though, the best could,
and was about 100 yards from the camp, |
should Judge when | heard one long, wild
scream in the direction of the camp. and |
knew that it was my wife. l had my gun
with me, an old-fashioned, muzzle-loading,
double-barrel shOtgun-and l let out as
though the old Nick was after me, shout
ing to her that I was coming. Ny
ooly thought was that some rutfian
had stolen into the camp and frightened
her, and l cooked the gun as | ran. After
her scream there was silence, aud then
directly l heard the loud, frightened cry OF
the baby. My, how l did rum Ny foot
caught under a root, and fell fully ten
feet, discharging one barrel OF the gun, but
was up again like flash, with one barrel
still left to fight with. And there was the
camp, with its fire smoking away, and
everything was quiet in the wagon where
the family were sleeping. and off in a
clump Of bushes tine baby was cry
ing in pitiful, frightened way.
OF course l ran in that direction
first. 1t was a tangle of underground,
and had to go half bent. Stumbling
blindly ahead. almost in total darkness,
merely guided by the chIld's cries, l came.
suddenly upon something that stopped me
as though / were shot The largest panther
/ ever saw had the child. 1t had dragged
the poor baby out into the bushes and had
faced around to meet me, holding the child
by its dress. 1t stood for an instant with its
head lowered and its tail waving wickedly,
and then before knew had seen it almost,