XX. CHUNKEY’S FIGHT WITH THE PANTHERS.

Co Chunk! went Jem into the middle of the floor; jest at the crack off day (Jem is a labor-savin’ man about ondressing when he goes to bed). He commenced chunkin’ the fire, then “ah!” says he, feelin’ for the tin cup. Presently he went to the door, and shouted to the foreman:

“Sound that horn, Hembry. Tell the niggars in the quarter to lumber the hollar back agin to the kitchen, for a hurricane has surely broke loose!”

Then “ah!” says he again, and in he comes.

“Chunkey!” says he.

“What’s busted, Jem?”

“North pole has busted, and no mistake. The ground is kivered with snow.”

I sprung up, and sure enough thar was the snow, the first that ever fell in the creek, jest follerin’ civilization. I knowed thar’d be howlin’, smashin’ of teeth, burnin’ of brimstone, and a worryin’ of the stranger, on the creek to-day, and so, I reckon, did the dogs, ’cause when Hembry blowed the horn, they come a shoutin’ like so many imps. Jest imagin, Captin, thirty full-grown dogs, a cross of the blood on the old Virginny foxhound, keen as a bowyer, and adzactly of Jem’s opinion, signifying as plain as they could, if huntin’s goin’ on, they’d take a chance.

Well, we splurged about till breakfast-time, gettin’ up and cleanin’ guns, and countin’ balls, and dividin’ powder.

“Bring out them bar-sassage and deer melts,” says Jem; “and then, Chunkey, we’ll locomotion.”

His eyes all the time lookin’ like a live coal of fire, and every muscle jumpin’ for joy.

“Look out, bar,” says he.

“Say low, and keep dark, panter,” says I.

“Deer, don’t you come nigh me,” says Jem, and then he commenced singin’:

“Oh, rain come wet me, sun come dry me,

Take care, white man, don’t come nigh me,”

and strikin’ a few flourishes of the goin’ and comin’ double shuffle.

“Hurrah for Sky Lake,” says I.

“Hurrah for the Forkin’ Cypress drive,” says Jem, takin’ a drink, and cuttin’ a few pigeon-wings with his left leg. “Now mind, Chunkey, no deer or wild turkey, no hogs or cub—nothin’ but bar or panter.”

“Agreed,” says I, and then we budged.

Captin, you’ve hearn Jem say, he’s hard of hearin’? Well, he is sometimes, ’specially when he don’t want to hear; but that mornin’ he was wide awake all over, and could have hearn an old he bar grunt in a thunder-storm.

“I’ll carry the horn, Chunkey. If you blow, I can’t hear you; and when I want you, I’ll blow, and you can.”

I didn’t ’spect anything then, but you’ll see.

Well, we had our big guns, them the govenor gin us; they throw twelve to the pound, and war made by that man what lives in Louisville; what’s his name?

He promised to send me a deer-gun gratis for two young panters, but he ain’t done it.

Jem’s gun war in bar order that mornin’, and if you’d jest say varment above your breath, click it would go, cockin’ itself.

Lots of deer war ’tinually passin’; that day some on ’em stood feedin’ jist as careless as a loafer with a full belly; they kno’ed they war safe. The day was mighty clear and yaller; it warn’t very cold, but still the snow diddent melt, but floated sorter like turkey-feathers in the wind, and in the tall cane it fell round us like a fog.

When we got to the Forkin’ Cypress, Sol soon had a camp made; and I and Jem started to look for sign.

We hadn’t been gone long, when I hearn Jem’s horn, and made to him; thar war a sign at the foot of a tree, and thar war his track in the snow.

“Shall we hail him, Chunkey?”

“In course,” says I.

Well, we hollered to Sol, to let the dogs loose. Presently, I heard ’em give some short licks, and I knowed he war up.

“Thar’s a cry for you.”

Away they go further and further, presently you can jest hear ’em, and then they are clean gone. I hearn Jem shoutin’ awhile, and then his mouth is lost too. I started on, spectin’ to meet ’em comin’ back, and in about an hour I hearn Jem’s voice:

“Who-whoop!”

“Ah, bar!” says I, “whar’s your friends?”

I soon hearn Jem agin, and presently I hearn the dogs, like the ringin’ of a cow-bell, a long way off. They come up the ridge, and then bore off to the thick cane on my right. Then they hushed awhile, and I knoed they’s a fightin’.

Look out, dogs; thar, they are gwyine again—no, here they comes! Lay low, and keep dark.

I put down another ball, and stood for him. I heard the cane crackin’, and cocked my gun. Here he comes—here he is. I hear him snortin’, wake snakes. Ain’t that lumberin’? Thar, they’ve got him again, and now the fur flies. I crawled thro’ the cane, trying to get a shot afore the dogs seen me. Thar they is, but which is he?

Bang! whiff, whiff, said the bar, and with that every dog jumped him. The canes a crackin’, and the dogs a hollerin’. I jerked my bowyer and plunged in, and thar they war hung togather like a swarm of bees. I felt the har risin’ on my head, and the blood ticklin’ the end of my fingers. I crept up behind him and he war done fightin’. He haddent got a hundred yards from the place whar I’d shot him. It war a death shot, and blinded him, and thar side of him lay “Singer” and “Constitutional,” two of the best dogs in Jem’s pack. I giv a shout, and Jem answered. Presently I hearn him cummin’, blowin’ like a steam-boat, and mad as anything; he always gits mad when he’s tired, and when he seen them dead dogs, he commenced breathin’ mighty hard, and the veins in his neck was as big as fingers; we warn’t more than a quarter and a half from the camp, whar we soon got, both mighty hungry and tired. Sol cooked the liver jest to the right pint, and we spent the balance of the evenin’ in singin’, braggin’, and eatin’ spar-ribs roasted brown, till we went to sleep.

Next mornin’ when we waked, it was sorter cloudy and warm too. The wind war blowin’ mightily.

“Now, Chunkey, let’s have a panter to-day, or nothin’.”

“All sot,” says I.

Well, arter breakfast Jem says, “Chunkey, you must take the right side the Lake, and I’ll take the ’yether, till we meet—and, Chunkey, you must rush; it ain’t more nor eight miles round, but your side may seem long, as you ain’t usen to the ground. Let’s licker out of my gourd, you ain’t got more nor you’ll want. Keep your eye skinned for sign, and listen for my horn!”

“Hump yourself,” says I, and we both darted—well; I worked my passage through cane, palmetto, and vines, until I war tired—I haddent hearn Jem’s horn, and pushed on the harder to meet him; every once and a while I’d think hears the turn of the Lake, but when I’d git to the place, thar it was stretchin’ out as big as ever. Once I thought I hearn Jem’s horn, but couldent quite make it out. I kept movin’; hours passed and no Jem or end of the Lake; I’d seen lots of bar and panter sign, lots of deer, and more swan, wild-goose, and duck, than you ever will see; but I paid no attention to ’em, as I ’spected I’d taken some wrong arm of the Lake and war lost. It war gettin’ towards night, and I ’spected I’d have to sleep by myself, but you know I diddent mind that, as I war used to it. But it war the first time in my life that I’d bin lost, and that did pester me mightily. Well, Sir, after studyin’ awhile, I thought I’d better put back towards the camp, mighty tired and discouraged. I then throw’d my gourd round to take a drop of liker, and it were filled with water! fact!—Thinks I, Chunkey, you must have been mighty drunk last night; that made me sorter low-spirited like a a ’oman, and my heart war weak as water. It had commenced gittin’ sorter dark; the wind were blowin’ and groanin’ through the trees and rivers, and the black clouds were flyin’, and I war goin’ along sorter oneasy and cross-grained, when a panter yelled out, close to me! I turned with my gun cocked, but couldent see it; presently I hearn it again, and out it come, and then another! “Is that you?” said I, takin’ a crack and missin’ to a sartainty; and away they darted through the cane. I drap’d my gun to load, and by the great Jackson, there warn’t a full load of powder in my gourd!—I loaded mighty carefully, and started on to pick out some holler tree to sleep in. Every once and awhile I’d git a glimpse of the panters on my trail. “Panters,” says I, “I’ll make a child’s bargain with you; if you will let me alone, you may golong;—and if you don’t, here’s a ball into the head of one of ye’er, and this knife!”—hush, if my knife warn’t gone, I wish I may never taste bar’s meat? I raised my arm, trimblin’ like a leaf, and says I, “Jem!—I’ll have your melt!” Well, I war in trouble sure!—I thought I war on the Tchule a Leta Lake, and witched.

Well I did! Oh, you may larph, but jist imagin’ yourself lost in the cane on Sky Lake, (the cane on Sky Lake is some—thirty miles long, from one to three miles wide, thick as the har on a dog’s back, and about thirty feet high!) out of licker, out of powder, your knife gone, the ground kivered with snow, you very hungry and tired, and two panters follerin’ your trail, and you’d think you was bewitched too!

Well, here they come, never lettin’ on, but makin’ arrangements to have my skalp that night; I never lettin’ on, but detarmin’d they shouldent. The har had been standin’ on my head for more nor an hour, and the sweat were gist rollin’ off me, and that satisfied me a fight war a brewin’ atween me and the panters! I stopped two or three times, thinkin’ they’s gone, but presently here they’d come, creepin’ along through the cane, and soon as they’d see me they stop, lay down, roll over and twirl their tails about like kittens playin’; I’d then shout, shake the cane, and away they’d go. Oh, they thought they had me! In course they did, and I detarmined with myself, if they did let me go, if they diddent attack an onarmed man, alone and lost, without licker, dogs, powder or knife, that the very fust time I got a panter up a tree, with my whole pack at the root, my licker gourd full, and I half full, my twelve-to-the-pound-yager loaded, and my knife in shavin’ order, I’d let him go! Yes, ’tisn’t Chantrey if I diddent!

But what did they care? They’d no more feelin’ than a pine-stump! I know’d it woulddent do to risk a fight in the cane, and pushed on to find an open place whar I could make sure of my one load, and rely on my gun barrel arter. I soon found a place whar the cane drifted, and thar I determined to stand and fight it out! Presently here they come; and if a stranger had seen ’em, he’d a thought they were playin’! They’d jump and squat, and bend their backs, lay down and roll, and grin like puppys;—they kept gittin’ nearer and nearer, and it wer gettin’ dark, and I know’d I must let drive at the old he, ’afore it got so dark I coulddent see my sights; so I jist dropped on one knee to make sure, and when I raised my gun, I were all in a trimble! I know’d that woulddent do, and ris!

“You are witched, Chunkey, sure and sartin’,” said I. Arter bracin’ myself, I raised up agin and fired! One on ’em sprung into the air and gin a yell, and the other bounded towards me like a streak! Lightin’ close to me, it squatted to the ground and commenced creepin’ towards me—its years laid back, its eyes turnin’ green, and sorter swimmin’ round like, and the end of its tail twistin’ like a snake. I felt light as a cork, and strong as a buffalo. I seen her commence slippin’ her legs under her, and knew she were gwine to spring. I throw’d back my gun to gin it to her, as she come; the lick I aimed at her head struck across the shoulders and back without doing any harm, and she had me!—Rip, rip, rip—and ’way went my blanket, coat, and britches. She sunk her teeth into my shoulder, her green eyes were close to mine, and the froth from her mouth were flyin’ in my face!! Moses! how fast she did fight! I felt the warm blood runnin’ down my side—I seen she were arter my throat! and with that I grabbed hern, and commenced pourin’ it into her side with my fist, like cats-a-fightin!—Rip, rip, she’d take me,—diff, slam, bang, I’d gin it to her—she fightin’ for her supper, I fightin’ for my life! Why, in course it war an onequal fight, but she ris it! Well, we had it round and round, sometimes one, and then yother on top, she a growlin’ and I a gruntin’! We had both commenced gittin’ mighty tired, and presently she made a spring, tryin’ to git away! Arter that thar wan’t no mortal chance for her! Cause why, she were whipped! I’d sorter been thinkin’ about sayin’

“Now I lay me down to sleep,”

but I know’d if I commenced it would put her in heart, and she’d riddle me in a minit, and when she hollered nuff, I were glad to my shoe soles, and had sich confidence in whippin’ the fight, that I offered two to one on Chunkey, but no takers!

“Oh, ho!” says I, a hittin’ her a lick every time I spoke, “you are willin’ to quit even and divide stakes, are you?” and then round and round we went agin! You could have hearn us blow a quarter, but presently she made a big struggle and broke my hold! I fell one way, and she the other! She darted into the cane, and that’s the last time I ever hearn of that panter!!!

When I sorter come to myself, I war struttin’ and thunderin’ like a big he-gobler, and then I commenced examinin’ to see what harm she’d done me; I war bit powerful bad in the shoulder and arm—jist look at them scars!—and I were cut into solid whip-strings; but when I found thar warn’t no danger of its killin’ me, I set in to braggin’. “Oh, you ain’t dead yet, Chunkey!” says I, “if you are sorter wusted, and have whipped a panter in a fair fight, and no gougin’;” and then I cock a doodle dood a spell, for joy!

When I looked round, thar sot the old he, a lickin’ the blood from his breast! I’d shot him right through the breast, but sorter slantindickler, breakin’ his shoulder blade into a perfect smash. I walked up to him:

“Howdy, panter? how do you do? how is missis panter, and the little panters? how is your consarns in gineral? Did you ever hearn tell of the man they calls ‘Chunkey?’ born in Kaintuck and raised in Mississippi? death on a bar, and smartly in a panter fight? If you diddent, look, for I’m he! I kills bars, whips panters in a fair fight; I walks the water, I out-bellars the thunder, and when I gets hot, the Mississippi hides itself! I—I—Oh, you thought you had me, did you?—drot you! But you are a gone sucker, now. I’ll have your melt, if I never gits home, so—”

“Look out, Capting! here’s the place! make the skift fast to that Cyprus log. Take care them oars, Abe! Spring out and oncupple the dogs, and take car they don’t knock them guns overboard. Now, Capting, we will have a deer movin’ afore you can say—Chunkey.”