The following legend was originally translated into English by an
educated Choctaw, named _J. L. McDonald_, and subsequently embodied in
a private letter to another Choctaw, named _Peter P. Pitchlyn_. The
former of these very worthy Indian gentlemen has long been dead, and
it is therefore with very great pleasure that I avail myself of the
opportunity, kindly afforded me by the latter gentleman, of
associating the legendary relic with my own. I have ventured, by the
permission and advice of Mr. Pitchlyn, to alter an occasional
expression in the text, but have not trespassed upon the spirit of the
story.
Ko-way-hoom-mah, or the Red Panther, once started out on a hunting
expedition. He had an excellent bow, and carried with him some jerked
venison. His only companion was a large white dog, which attended him in
all his rambles. This dog was a cherished favorite, and shared in all
his master’s privations and successes. He was the social companion of
the hunter by day, and his watchful guardian by night.
The hunter had traveled far, and as the evening approached, he encamped
upon a spot that bore every indication of an excellent hunting-ground.
Deer-tracks were seen in abundance, and turkeys were heard clucking in
various directions, as they retired to their roosting places.
Ko-way-hoom-mah kindled a fire, and having shared a portion of his
provision with his dog, he spread his deer-skin and his blanket by the
crackling fire, and mused on the adventures of the day already passed,
and on the probable success of the ensuing one. It was a bright
starlight night; the air was calm, and a slight frost which was falling,
rendered the fire comfortable and cheering. His dog lay crouched and
slumbering at his feet, and from his stifled cries, seemed dreaming of
the chase. Everything tended to soothe the feelings of our hunter, and
to prolong that pleasant train of associations, which the beauty of the
night and the anticipations of the morrow were calculated to inspire. At
length, when his musings were assuming that indefinite and dreamy state
which precedes a sound slumber, he was startled by a distant cry, which
thrilled on his ear, and roused him into instant watchfulness. He
listened with breathless attention, and in a few minutes again heard the
cry, keen, long, and piercing. The dog gave a plaintive and ominous
howl. Ko-way-hoom-mah felt uneasy. Can it be a lost hunter? was the
inquiry which suggested itself. Surely not, for a true hunter feels lost
nowhere. What then can it be? With these reflections our hunter stepped
forth, gathered more fuel, and again replenished his fire. Again came a
cry, keen, long, and painfully thrilling, as before. The voice was
evidently approaching, and again the dog raised a low and mournful howl.
Ko-way-hoom-mah then felt the blood curdling to his heart, and folding
his blanket around him, he seated himself by the fire and fixed his eyes
intently in the direction from which he expected the approach of his
startling visitor. In a few moments he heard the approach of his
footsteps. In another minute, a ghastly shape made its appearance, and
advanced towards the fire. It seemed to be the figure of a hunter, like
himself. Its form was tall and gaunt, its features livid and unearthly.
A tattered robe was girded round his waist, and covered his shoulders,
and he bore an unstrung bow and a few broken arrows.
The spectre advanced to the fire, and seemed to shiver with cold. He
stretched forth one hand, then the other to the fire, and as he did so,
he fixed his hollow and ghastly eye on Ko-way-hoom-mah, and a slight
smile lighted up his livid countenance, but not a word did he utter.
Ko-way-hoom-mah felt his flesh and hair creep, and the blood freezing in
his veins, yet with instinctive Indian courtesy he presented his
deer-skin as a seat for his grim visitor. The spectre waved his hand,
and shook his head in refusal. He stepped aside, plucked up a parcel of
briers from an adjacent thicket, spread them by the fire, and on his
thorny couch he stretched himself and seemed to court repose.
Our hunter was petrified with mingled fear and astonishment. His eyes
continued long riveted on the strange and ghastly being stretched before
him, and he was only awakened from his trance of horror by the voice of
his faithful dog. “Arise,” said the dog, suddenly and supernaturally
gifted with speech, “Arise, and flee for your life! The spectre now
slumbers: should you also slumber, you are lost. Arise and flee, while I
stay and watch!” Ko-way-hoom-mah arose, and stole softly from the fire.
Having advanced a few hundred paces, he stopped to listen; all was
silent, and with a beating heart he continued his stealthy and rapid
flight. Again he listened, and again, with renewed confidence, he
pursued his rapid course, until he had gained several miles on his route
homeward. Feeling at length a sense of safety, he paused to recover
breath, on the brow of a lofty hill. The night was calm and serene, the
stars shone with steady lustre, and as Ko-way-hoom-mah gazed upwards, he
breathed freely and felt every apprehension vanish. Alas! on the
instant, the distant baying of his dog struck on his ear; with a thrill
of renewed apprehension, he bent his ear to listen, and the appalling
cry of his dog, now more distinctly audible, convinced him that the
spectre was in full pursuit. Again he fled with accelerated speed, over
hill, over plain, through swamps and thickets, till once more he paused
by the side of a deep and rapid river. The heavy baying of his dog told
him too truly, that his fearful pursuer was close at hand. One minute he
stood for breath, and he then plunged into the stream. But scarcely had
he gained the centre, when the spectre appeared on the bank, and plunged
in after him, closely followed by the panting dog. Ko-way-hoom-mah’s
apprehensions now amounted to agony. He fancied he saw the hollow and
glassy eyeballs of his pursuer glaring above the water, and that his
skeleton hand was already outstretched to grapple with him. With a cry
of horror he was about to give up the struggle for life and sink beneath
the waves, when his faithful dog, with a fierce yell, seized upon his
master’s enemy. After a short but severe struggle they both sunk; the
waters settled over them forever. He became an altered man. He shunned
the dance and the ball play, and his former hilarity gave place to a
settled melancholy. In about a year after this strange adventure he
joined a war party against a distant enemy and never returned.