HOW DOLLY BEAT THE HUNTERS.

BY PROFESSOR FRED MYRON COLBY.

"Charley, it's time to go after the cows," said Farmer Goodwin to his oldest boy, one summer day, near evening.

"I'm off, father," replied Charley, a bright little fellow of eleven, and whistling to Tiger, a large brindled mastiff, he was soon marching toward the pasture with the dog at his heels.

This was ninety years ago very nearly, and the place was near the historic mountain of Kearsarge, in central New Hampshire. Moses Goodwin was one of the early settlers of that region, and his cabin stood far up the cleared slope of the mountain, on a fertile ridge of land, where the fields of corn were ripening for the harvest.

The sides of the mountain were covered with thick forests, even as they are to-day, affording excellent haunts for the wild animals of the latitude. The bark of the wolf, the screech of the cougar, and the growl of the bear were well-known sounds to most of the early settlers. Indeed, it was no uncommon thing for the families of the pioneers to be awakened at night by the fierce chorus of wild beasts around their cabins.

There were large State bounties on all of these animals, and after a few years their numbers began to diminish. At the time of our story it was very seldom that a bear or a panther was seen about the settlement. If now and then a farmer lost a fine sheep or a favorite calf, it was no more than was expected. Farmer Goodwin had himself lost that very autumn a valuable young heifer, which was supposed to have been carried off by a bear. None of the other settlers had lost any of their stock, and it was supposed that the animal had left the neighborhood.

Charley was gone longer than usual after the cows on the evening in question. His parents began to feel uneasy at his protracted absence.

"It's time he should be here," said the farmer. "The stock must have wandered farther than usual."

"I am afraid something has happened to him," observed Mrs. Goodwin, her fair face growing a shade paler at the thought of her boy's danger. "Perhaps he's met a bear or a panther."

"There he is now, all right, I guess," exclaimed the husband, as he heard the cattle going into the barn. "I'll go out and help him turn them in."

As he opened the door, in rushed Tiger, uttering fearful moans, and shaking like an aspen leaf. The mastiff was in a terrible condition. His brindled hide was all covered with blood, and there were torn places and gaping wounds on his neck and shoulders, showing conclusively that he had been engaged in a fight with some powerful animal. Mrs. Goodwin sat down, white and faint, in a chair.

"Charley is dead. I know he is. The beast has killed my boy. Oh, what shall I do?" she sobbed, half frantic in her grief.

"Be calm, mother," said the settler. "I don't believe it's as bad as that. The creature attacked the dog. Perhaps Charley is hiding somewhere. I'll get Neighbor Savary to go with me, and we'll see if he can't be found."

He lit a candle and placed it in an old tin lantern, and went to the house of his next-door neighbor. Together the two men followed the path to the pasture, and searched that inclosure all over; but they were unable to find any trace of the boy.

Once or twice they stopped and called his name, but there was no answer. As they were passing through the thick underbrush by the banks of the brook, a fierce scream stayed their steps. There was the sound of a large body tearing through the shrubbery, and by the light of their lantern they saw the fierce beast spring up into a tree and begin tearing the bark with its claws.

"It's a painter, sure enough," said Goodwin's neighbor. "We'd better start for the house, seeing as how we ain't armed."

"And must I go home without my boy? How can I? It will kill my poor wife."

"It's the only thing left us. There, the painter's going away. It's useless to stand here any longer."

The beast was heard moving off; and they turned sadly toward home.

On the following morning a large company of men and boys, neighboring settlers, were gathered with their dogs and guns around Goodwin's cabin door. The news of Charley's disappearance and of a panther in the neighborhood had spread like wildfire through the settlement. It was determined to hunt the monster to the death.

The excited party started at once, dividing into two companies, each under an experienced hunter. It was thought by this method that the panther would have fewer chances of escaping, and be brought to bay with more dispatch than if the hunters marched all in one body.

Far up on the mountain the hounds took the scent and dashed away, followed by the hunters. But away to the left, on another ridge of the mountains, was heard the bay of the pack belonging to the other division. Still the enthusiasm of the settlers was not cooled. At noon the two parties met on the other side of the mountain. A light lunch was eaten, and then they started on the homeward track. Nothing had been seen of the panther.

On the Warner side of the mountain, late in the afternoon, the hounds of one of the parties made a great outcry. It was in a swamp, not far from the Goodwin pasture. The men hurried to the spot, jumping stones and bushes and the trunks of fallen trees in their haste. They met the dogs coming back. Two of them had bloody muzzles, and bore hideous wounds on their bodies.

"The dogs have had hold of something, and something has had hold of them," said one of the men, quaintly. "It's a painter's work; I know the marks of their claws."

The hunters went through the swamp cautiously. The dogs would not go back again. No trace of the panther was found. Disappointed and weary, they proceeded down the mountain toward the settlement.

"What is that?" asked one of the men, suddenly.

A sound like that of some one shouting was plainly heard. They all stopped to listen. The shout was repeated, and was not far off.

"It's my boy! It's Charley's voice!" cried Goodwin. "He must be alive," and he rushed in the direction of the sound.

At the foot of the hill before spoken of, in Goodwin's pasture, there was a large ledge of rocks. Toward that the party hastened.

"Charley! Charley! where are you?" shouted the pioneer.

"Here I am," replied the little fellow—"down here in the rock. I can't get up."

Several of the party had already mounted the ledge, and they now saw what was the matter. There was a crevice or crack running through the rock from top to bottom, all the way from a foot to a foot and a half in width. Into this fissure the boy had fallen, and as the sides were steep and smooth, he could not possibly climb out. A hazel withe was cut, and one end given him, and he was speedily drawn to the surface.

"How came you in there, Charley?" asked his father.

"I fell in," answered the boy. "I was out there under that maple when the panther jumped on to Tige. I ran to the top of this rock, and stumbling, fell down in there. The panther came several times and tried to reach me, but he couldn't. Oh, I'm so tired and hungry!"

"We'll be at home soon," said his father. "Your mother will be looking for you."

They hastened toward the cabin with eager footsteps, and soon met the other party, who were returning from a fruitless search for boy or panther. Just then the report of a gun was heard at the settlement.

"What does that mean?" asked a brawny pioneer.

"I don't know," answered Goodwin. "Something must be the matter."

The party hastened their steps to a run.

At the close of the long afternoon, Dolly Goodwin, a girl of about sixteen, had gone out to do the milking. The cows had not been turned to pasture that day, but had been kept in an inclosure near the barn, shut in by a stone wall eight feet high.

Her mother had objected to Dolly's doing this. "Father will be at home soon," she said, "and there will be time enough then."

But Dolly, who was a busy little body, insisted. "If you are afraid for me, I will take my gun. You won't have to worry then. The cows really ought to be milked, for it's almost dark. Besides, Brindle and Loo like me."

The girl took down a small, pretty musket from its place over the deer antlers; it was her own, purchased the year before from her own savings.

The yard seemed a safe, cozy place, and Dolly felt like smiling at her mother's fears as she sat down on a stool and began milking one of the gentle, mild-eyed animals that were complacently chewing their cuds. She had one of the pails about filled, when there was a sudden disturbance among the horned inmates of the inclosure.

Dolly rose to her feet and gazed around, grasping her musket in both hands. We can see how she looked—a thin slip of a girl, with bare feet and ankles, a gown of linsey-woolsey, her gingham bonnet thrown back from her curls, and hanging to her neck by its fastened strings. The red in her cheeks and the flash in her eye made her look very charming.

Her quick eye soon caught a glance of a lithe, cat-like animal creeping stealthily along the high stone wall. Its glaring eyes, the long undulating tail, and the tawny-colored hide told well enough the character of the intruder. She knew it was a panther.

Dolly's heart rose into her throat, and for a moment, as she said afterward, she thought she should run as poor Brindle had done. But she was a pioneer girl, strong and healthy, and her nerves were soon under control. She raised her weapon to her shoulder, and levelled it full at the tawny breast of the crouching panther.

Her aim was taken instantly. She saw the greenish eyes glitter, and the long tail lash the wall excitedly. The next moment the savage beast sprang toward her. At the same moment her finger pressed the trigger.

She knew no more until she heard the baying of hounds and the loud cries of the returning hunters. Her father opened the heavy wooden gate, and came in where she was leaning half faint against the wall.

"I am all right now, father," said Dolly, in reply to his anxious interrogation, "but I was kind of sick like a while ago."

She still looked very pale.

"The girl has beat the hull of us!" cried a rough pioneer. "It's the very beast we were arter. See, there's the marks of the hounds' teeth. Well, it's saved us a journey to-morrow; that's a comfort. But you beat the dickens, Dolly, you do."

They all crowded around, offering congratulations, and for weeks afterward her exploit was the talk of the neighborhood.

The panther proved on measurement to be one of the largest of its kind; lacking only an inch of being seven feet in length, including its tail. The State bounty was forty dollars. This sum, with what she realized from its skin, made Dolly quite a rich young lady for those times.