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9 hours ago, Incredulity said:

No Way Penguin GIF by Pudgy Penguins

 

 

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sprang upon us. We took the skin, although it almost looked like a sieve, and returned to our fire.

It was night by the time we came out of the cave, and, with hungry stomachs, lay all four by the fire; for neither we nor the dogs had any fancy to eat the panther. Conwell suffered very much from his wound, but towards morning he fell into a tolerably quiet sleep. We moved off with the first gleam of day to the place where I had hung up the buck, breakfasted there, and started for fresh game.

From the book Wild Sports in the Far West by Friedrich Gerstäcker, circa 1840 or so. He was a German who came to America to seek adventure, travelling across the country on foot and steam boat. The account is from his diaries that he sent home to his mother, who had them published, which made him quite famous. It is available to read in public domain,  and I recommend reading it if you are at all interested in the early history of the Arklatex are where he spent much of his time. 

 

Edit: the whole passage didn't quote right. I'm on mobile right now. Will try to fix it, but it is about crawling through a cave to go after a wounded mountain lion. 

Edited by NotActuallyALonghorn
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On the morning of the 22nd January, Old Conwell and I shouldered our rifles, and each provided with meat and bread, we wandered towards the waters of the Richland. Lucky was it that we took provisions, for not a shot did we fire. Next day was almost as bad, and if Conwell had not knocked over a turkey, we should have been reduced to chew sassafras. At length on the third day, he shot a deer and I a turkey, which put a little life into the dogs. Disgusted with our bad luck, we decided on returning home next day; besides, the weather was bad, and threatened to{330} be worse. To our inexpressible joy, snow fell during the night, and all thoughts of return vanished. We took different directions, with the agreement to return to camp in the evening. I had not gone far when I saw footsteps of a young buck in the four-inch deep snow, followed him up and shot him. I heard the report of Conwell’s rifle about the same time. Hanging up the deer, I walked on. After lounging along slowly for above an hour, without seeing any thing, I came across the track of Conwell, who, with his dog, had been following up the bloody trail of a panther; I gathered from the signs that he had broken his left hind leg. I followed it up on the instant, as fast as my legs could carry me; in rather more than an hour I arrived at the mouth of a cave, where Conwell was awaiting me, knowing that I should cross his trail, and follow it up as soon as I saw the marks of the panther.

The wounded brute had taken refuge in the cave, leaving us to act as we pleased, probably thinking himself quite safe. We held a short consultation;—Conwell said, that he had hidden a bundle of kindlers in a hole, and that if I would keep watch here, he would go and fetch them. I consented, of course, and laid myself down before the cave, with bare knife and cocked rifle. Lying in the snow, however, was any thing but agreeable; at first, when I was warm with running, I thought nothing of it, but by degrees I became colder and colder, till my teeth chattered. I could not venture to lay aside the rifle to make a fire, for fear the panther should escape. I managed to keep up a little warmth by running and jumping, but was{331} very glad when my old friend returned and made a good fire.

As soon as we were well warmed, we made torches, and entered the cave as cautiously as possible, each with a burning torch in his left hand, and a rifle in the right. I went first, but the cave was soon roomy enough to admit of our walking upright beside each other. Some distance in, it took a turn to the left, and about two hundred paces in advance we saw the fiery eyeballs of the beast, who kept shutting them from time to time. Conwell, taking my torch, stepped behind me, while I took aim and fired. We heard a noise after the shot, but could not make out the result; I reloaded as fast as possible, while Conwell went in advance, but we could see nothing more of the animal’s eyes. We went on with cocked rifles on our left arm. Moving silently and cautiously forward, we suddenly discovered the panther in a little hollow close to our feet, a beautiful but alarming sight, his ears laid back, his teeth gnashing in wild rage, and his glowing eyes so wide open, that they seemed half out of their sockets. Inspired by one impulse, we both fired so exactly together, that neither knew that the other had done so. Our enemy was hit, but whether mortally or not was more than we could tell. Dropping our rifles like lightning, we drew our knives; a sore need we had of them, for before the sound of the rifles expired, we felt the weight of the panther upon us. I drove my knife into him, and sprang back; our torches were extinguished; it all passed so quickly, that I did not recover full possession of my senses, till I stood beside my old friend in the fresh air at{332} the mouth of the cave. I only remember that, in the impenetrable darkness and thick smoke, I did not know which way to turn, and that Conwell dragged me out. When we came into the light of day, we found ourselves covered with sweat and blood, and our clothes all torn.

Conwell complained of pain in the breast. Tearing open his shirt, we found two deep gashes from the left shoulder to the pit of the stomach; I had escaped with only a few scratches. We had neither of us felt when we were wounded, but before we troubled ourselves about it, we made a fire in the mouth of the cave to prevent the panther from coming out; then washed and bound up our wounds, and sat by the fire to consider what was next to be done. There was the panther in the cave, whether alive or dead we knew not. At any rate, he was badly wounded, for both our knives, with blades nine inches long, were bloody to the hilt. But indeed we had no choice; our rifles, and Conwell’s ball-pouch, which the brute had torn away, were still in the cave.

It might perhaps have been possible to suffocate the panther with smoke, but there might have been another opening, and then we should have had our trouble for nothing. We soon made up our minds, and entered the cave again with fresh torches and bare knives, but not without beating hearts. We moved silently and cautiously on, holding the torches well before us, so as not to be so agreeably surprised a second time. We recovered our rifles without seeing the enemy. I held both the torches while Conwell loaded his rifle, then gave them to him while I loaded{333} mine; and having our faithful weapons once more in our hands, we stepped forward again still slowly and silently, but with lighter hearts. “There!” suddenly called out C., holding his torch aloft, and staring before him; it was the first word spoken since we re-entered the cave. The panther lay stretched on the ground; no longer dangerous, for the last convulsions were over. We skinned him and cut him up; all the balls had taken effect, and both our knives had pierced his body, so that it was only in his death-struggle that he sprang upon us. We took the skin, although it almost looked like a sieve, and returned to our fire.

It was night by the time we came out of the cave, and, with hungry stomachs, lay all four by the fire; for neither we nor the dogs had any fancy to eat the panther. Conwell suffered very much from his wound, but towards morning he fell into a tolerably quiet sleep. We moved off with the first gleam of day to the place where I had hung up the buck, breakfasted there, and started for fresh game.

 

OK, here's the full excerpt. Earlier in the chapter, he crawls through a cave looking for a bear. Bear was there, complete with suckling cubs.

 

 

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