One day I went out to feed them and he
drew back and slapped me, and I shot him on the spot with my
pistol. The female I kept until she was considerably over a year
old, when I sold her for one hundred dollars to an Englishman
named Mace, and had I only known it, that panther was worth five
hundred dollars. I had taught her many tricks.
She could count ten, by putting her paw on the ground ten times,
and would do various other tricks, but when asked by any other
person than her master to perform, she would shake her head and
would not allow any one else to touch her. I always tied her up
when going out for a hunt, and when I would return she would cry
and scream so shrill that it would almost raise the hat on a man's
head until I would untie her. She never was contented until she
could get to lick my face, and I never saw a dog more watchful
than she.
It was in the month of April that Uncle Kit came in with a pack-
train for the furs, the snowfall having been so heavy that he
could not get in earlier. Our catch had been light, as we had more
snow that winter than has ever been known before or since in the
history of that country. Uncle Kit was, however, very well
satisfied with our work, with the exception of Mountain Phil, whom
he had furnished for the winter, and who had not caught a beaver.
We soon had our traps and furs together, loaded up and were on our
way to New Mexico.
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