The dogs barked louder and louder; twice I
raised my rifle, but did not fire, my nerves were too much agitated, and
my arms shook. At last I regained my self-command, and reflecting that
among the pack there were some dogs almost a match for the terrible
animal, I rested my rifle upon the limb of one of the heavy canes, and
fired: my aim was true, the brute fell mortally wounded, though not
dead; half of the dogs were upon it in a moment, but, shaking them off,
the animal attempted to re-ascend the tree. The effort, however, was
above its strength, and, after two useless springs, it attempted to slip
away. At that moment the larger dogs sprang upon the animal, which could
struggle no longer, as life was ebbing fast with the stream of blood.
Ere I had time to reload my rifle, it was dead.
When I approached, all the dogs were upon the animal, except a fierce
little black bitch, generally the leader of the pack; I saw her dart
through the canes with her nose on the ground, and her tail hanging low.
The panther was a female, very lean, and of the largest size; by her
dugs I knew she had a cub which could not be far off, and I tried to
induce the pack to follow the bitch, but they were all too busy in
tearing and drinking the blood of the victim, and it was not safe to use
force with them.
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