"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.