ents, it's a soopreme moment! The panther makes for the female
squatter an' her litter, we pantin' an' pressin' clost behind. The
panther is among 'em; the woman an' the children seems transfixed by the
awful spectacle an' stands rooted with open eyes an' mouths. Our
emotions shore beggars deescriptions.

"'Now ensooes a scene to smite the hardiest of us with dismay. No sooner
does the panther find himse'f in the midst of that he'pless bevy of
little ones, than he stops, turns round abrupt, an' sets down on his
tail; an' then upliftin' his muzzle he busts into shrieks an' yells an'
howls an' cries, a complete case of dog hysterics! That's what he is, a
great yeller dog; his reason is now a wrack because we harasses him the
eighteen miles.

"'Thar's a ugly outcast of a squatter, mattock in hand, comes tumblin'
down the hillside from some'ers out back of the shanty where he's been
grubbin':

"'"What be you-all eediots chasin' my dog for?" demands this onkempt
party. Then he menaces us with the implement.

"'We makes no retort but stands passive. The great orange brute whose
nerves has been torn to rags creeps to the squatter an' with mournful
howls explains what we've made him suffer.

"'No, thar's nothin' further to do an' less to be said. That cavalcade,
erstwhile so gala an' buoyant, drags itself wearily homeward, the
exhausted dogs in the r'ar walkin' stiff an' sore like their laigs is
wood. For more'n a mile the complainin' howls of the hysterical yeller
dog is wafted to our years. Then they ceases; an' we figgers his
sympathizin' master has done took him into the shanty an' shet the door.

"'No one comments on this adventure, not a word is heard. Each is silent
ontil we mounts the Big Murray hill. As we collects ourse'fs on this
eminence one of the Brackenridge boys holds up his hand for a halt.
"Gents," he says, as--hosses, hunters an' dogs--we-all gathers 'round,
"gents, I moves you the Chevy Chase Huntin' Club yereby stands adjourned
_sine die_." Thar's a moment's pause, an' then as by one impulse every
gent, hoss an' dog, says "Ay!" It's yoonanimous, an' from that hour till
now the Chevy Chase Huntin' Club ain't been nothin' save tradition. But
that panther shore disappears; it's the end of his vandalage; an' ag'in
does quadrilles, pra'rs, an poker resoom their wonted sway. That's the
end; an' now, gents, if Black Jack will caper to his dooties we'll
uplift our drooped energies with the usual forty drops.'