Tales, Traditions and Romance of Border and Revolutionary TimesEllis, Edward Sylvester
History
Tales, Traditions and Romance of Border and Revolutionary Times
Ellis, Edward Sylvester
Frontier and pioneer life -- United States -- Anecdotes; United States -- History -- Revolution, 1775-1783 -- Anecdotes
"One glance satisfied me that there was no time to be lost, as Pat
thought when falling from a church steeple, and exclaimed, 'This would
be mighty pleasant now, if it would only last,' but there was no retreat
either for me or the cougar, so I leveled my Betsy and blazed away. The
report was followed by a furious growl, (which is sometimes the case in
Congress,) and the next moment, when I expected to find the tarnal
critter struggling with death, I beheld him shaking his head as if
nothing more than a bee had stung him. The ball had struck him on the
forehead and glanced off, doing no other injury than stunning him for an
instant, and tearing off the skin, which tended to infuriate him the
more. The cougar wasn't long in making up his mind what to do, nor was I
neither; but he would have it all his own way, and vetoed my motion to
back out. I had not retreated three steps before he sprung at me like a
steamboat; I stepped aside, and as he lit upon the ground, I struck him
violently with the barrel of my rifle, but he didn't mind that, but
wheeled around and made at me again. The gun was now of no use, so I
threw it away, and drew my hunting knife, for I knew we should come to
close quarters before the fight would be over. This time he succeeded in
fastening on my left arm, and was just beginning to amuse himself by
tearing the flesh off with his fangs, when I ripped my knife into his
side, and he let go his hold, much to my satisfaction.
"He wheeled about and came at me with increased fury, occasioned by the
smarting of his wounds. I now tried to blind him, knowing that if I
succeeded he would become an easy prey; so as he approached me I watched
my opportunity, and aimed a blow at his eyes with my knife, but
unfortunately it struck him on the nose, and he paid no other attention
to it than by a shake of the head and a low growl. He pressed me close,
and as I was stepping backward my foot tripped in a vine, and I fell to
the ground. He was down upon me like a nighthawk upon a June bug. He
seized hold of the outer part of my right thigh, which afforded him
considerable amusement; the hinder part of his body was toward my face;
I grasped his tail with my left hand, and tickled his ribs with my
hunting-knife, which I held in my right. Still the critter wouldn't let
go his hold; and as I found that he would lacerate my leg dreadfully,
unless he was speedily shaken off, I tried to hurl him down the bank
into the river, for our scuffle had already brought us to the edge of
the bank. I stuck my knife into his side, and summoned all my strength
to throw him over. He resisted, was desperate heavy; but at last I got
him so far down the declivity that he lost his balance, and he rolled
over and over till he landed on the margin of the river; but in his fall
he dragged me along with him. Fortunately, I fell uppermost, and his
neck presented a fair mark for my hunting knife. Without allowing myself
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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