Whilst sitting on this lofty perch, in painful suspense, he carefully examined his trusty gun and hunting knife, which he sheathed in his boot in readiness for the combat, should the panthers attempt to attack him by ascending the tree. After resting on one of the branches of his chosen tree for a short time he heard the rustling of the leaves in the distance, and could plainly see through the branches of the trees that the old panther was advancing towards his bed of leaves, accompanied by three large cubs. He now felt thankful there was but one old one in the company, and waited in silence to see the exploits of the old panther, which advanced steadily towards the bunch of leaves with cautious steps, as if she feared to wake her prey until she came within leaping distance; then, settling down on the ground, waited until her young ones came to her side; then springing forward with one tremendous bound, she struck upon the log covered with leaves. The rotten wood-bark and leaves flew fearfully around for a moment. The panther seeing her mistake, dropped her tail and ears like a shamed cur, and taking a careful survey with her eyes of the surrounding forest, stood at fault for a few moments. Then raising her head and ears, she seemed to resume all her native fierceness, and seemed maddened with rage at her disappointment, and, seeming to have caught the scout of the victim of her rage, she raised her eyes and fixed them on Mayall in the tree, and advanced directly towards him, her young panthers following, which were about the size of a large wild cat.