Wlliam Gilmore Simms
The Cub of the Panther: A Hunter Legend of the ''Old North State'' >> Chapter Four: The ''Cub'' Saves his Father's Life, But Administers a Sharp Admonition >> Page 213

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Novel (Romance) | The University of Arkansas Press | 1997
whom there were several in attendance, and who found a flirtation with
the wife more grateful pastime than communion with the husband.
He seemed quite resigned to this sort of relationship, and had long
since survived that heyday of the blood, which had brought the ill-
matched couple together, and persuaded them at first that it was love.
They had no children —a subject, seemingly, of equal gratification to
This will suffice as a household picture. The two ladies saw the hunt-
ing party set forth at sunrise for the chase with comparative indifference.
There were five gentlemen, and thrice as many dogs. Fairleigh prided
himself upon his dogs, each of which was a subject of brag with his
owner; each having some individual virtue which made him superior
to all the known breeds of the country.
The party was soon out of sight of "Fairleigh Lodge," and taking the
track for those wild gorges of the mountains, among which the bears had
been last seen.
About the same hour, Mike Baynam, Sam Fuller, a hunter named
Wood, and another called Rafe Dolby, with the "Cub of the Panther,"
were winding down the slopes of a contiguous mountain.
The two parties came together in the valley below. Our professional
hunters, with a simple recognition, were about to pass on, when the
gentlemen amateurs stopped them with certain questions touching the
beasts of which they were both in pursuit.
The answers were given by Sam Fuller and Wood; when the latter,
having surveyed the equipment of the gentleman, said, abruptly:
"And you're thinking to hunt the b'ar with them shot-guns,
gentlemen?""And why not?" answered Fairleigh.
"Well, I'd jist idvise you, of you happens to hit a full grown b'ar with
one of them we'pons, you won't do more than graze his hide, and melt
a leetle of his fat! That'll jest put him in a mighty bad humor for the rest
of the day, and you must be mighty quick to git out of his way when he
comes tearing down upon you! That's all.""My good fellow," responded Fairleigh with a contemptuous com-
placency, "you do not know these beautiful instruments which you call
`we'pons: These are double-barrelled guns.""I sees that far myself.""Well, my good fellow, these guns are made in England, and by the
first gun-maker in the world! With fifteen pellets in each barrel, you will