The Arabs have remarked, from the numbers of persons who have come in collision with panthers, and been wounded without being killed, that it uses only its teeth; its bite being like that of the dog, and injuring only the flesh. The lion, on the other hand, by his violent shaking, breaks the bones of the victim he holds in his powerful jaws. When the panther has inflicted its bite, it does not trouble itself as to its being fatal or otherwise, but makes off with fear and caution. The lion grows more and more furious, and returns to the attack again and again. It is not enough that the enemy be disabled—he must feel the whole weight of a lion's wrath. The lion bounds into a _douar_, and plunders boldly, at his leisure. He seizes his share without any concealment; he has no fear; he is exercising his right, the right of the strongest. The panther covers its advance, glides, creeps, crawls along like a thief, accompanied by shame and fear. The panther's spring, when enraged, is like a flash of lightning; but after that tremendous effort, its pace is less swift than that of an ordinary horse. If a panther be surrounded, tracked down, and hard pressed—maddened by terror rather than by rage—it will spring on the tree in which the hunters are stationed, and close with them. But at another time, if only one or two men are lying in ambush, and it be not shut in on all sides and a path is left for escape, it forgets its power and runs away. Everywhere and at all times, the lion is a dangerous enemy, to encounter whom is a terrible undertaking; whereas no one need dread the panther unless he has first attacked it. The cry of the latter animal resembles the clear, shrill, impotent neigh of the mule, and is in no way calculated to inspire terror like the roar of the lion, which is as the growling of thunder. But it is quick and agile, and its movements baffle the eye. If the natural disposition of the panther leads it to spare, or at least to avoid, man, and to choose for its prey animals wild or tame, such as sheep, cows, gazelles, and antelopes, that cannot defend themselves, it is equally instructed by instinct to modify its mode of attack upon animals whose habits or courage render them difficult or dangerous to assail—against such, it has usually recourse to surprise. It will not attack a horse in the centre of a _douar_. Its habitual circumspection and cowardice will restrain it from seeking to seize upon a prey that might be rescued in time, or promptly avenged. Even when out grazing, a horse by itself might escape by galloping off; but if it has not been seen, or suspected, if with a single bound it can fall upon the horse, he is lost.