Uncle Dick and Lisa's Old Time Animal Tales

From Crocket’s Travels in Texas. [Davy Crocket]
After toiling more than an hour to get my mustang on his feet again, I gave it up as a bad job, as little Van did when he attempted to raise himself to the moon by the waistband of his breeches. Night was fast closing in, and as I began to think that I had just about sport enough for one day I may as well look around for a place to shelter for the night, and take a fresh start in the morning, by, which time I was in hopes my horse would be recruited.
Near the margin of the river a large tree had been thrown down, and I thought of making my lair in its top, and approached it for that purpose. While beating among the branches I heard a low growl, as much as to say, “Stranger the apartments are already taken.” Looking up to see what kind of a bad fellow I was likely to have, I discovered, not more than five or six paces from me, an enormous Mexican cougar, eyeing me as an epicure surveys the table before he selects his dish, for I have no doubt the cougar looked upon me as the subject of a future supper. Rays of light darted from his large eyes, he showed his teeth in hysterics, and he was crouching on his haunches, ready for a spring; all of which convinced me that unless I was pretty quick upon the trigger, posterity would know little of the termination of my eventful career, and it would be far less glorious and useful than I intended to make it.
One glance satisfied me that there was no time to be lost, as Pat thought when falling from the 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 Betsey 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 darned 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 was not long in making up his mind what to do, nor was I either; but he would have it all his own way and he vetoed my motion to back out. I had not retreated more than three steps, before he sprang at me like a steamboat. I stepped aside, and, as he hit 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 he 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 in to 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 night hawk 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 towards 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 would not let go his hold; and as I found he would accelerate my leg dreadfully unless he was speedily taken 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 struck 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 until 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 time to breathe, I aimed one desperate blow at his neck, and it entered his gullet up to the handle, and reached his heart. He struggled for a few moments and died.
I have had many fights with bears, but that was mere child’s play. This was my first fight ever I had with a cougar and I hope it may be the last.

Wild animals do not usually attack men without provocation unless driven to do so by hunger. It is probable, therefore, that the four mountain lions which besieged J. H. Camp for four days and nights in a cabin in the upper San Gabriel country, California, were starving. It was a terrifying experience, as the San Francisco Examiner tells it, for Camp’s only companion in misery was a burro, and his means of defense a revolver and a limited quantity of ammunition.
Camp had gone to the mountain cabin to prepare it for the reception of several hunters, and during his stay alone had heard the cry of wildcats and the screech of panthers. He had not seen any of the animals until one day when he was cutting away some brush on the trail near the cabin he heard a twig snap in front of him. Looking up. he beheld a huge lion right in the center of the trail, switching its tail menacingly. Camp was filled with terror, but instinctively his hand sought his hip pocket, in which reposed his revolver.
As he drew it another lion walked out of the brush, and behind it were two smaller ones, probably cubs.
Blazing wildly away with the revolver, Camp created a momentary diversion that allowed him to reach his cabin. Rushing inside, he barred the door and reloaded his revolver, determined to frighten away the brutes if possible. As he looked out he saw his burro snorting and tugging at his tether, one of the tawny brutes having already begun to creep up on him. With a plunge the burro broke loose and rushed the shelter, with the lion after him. Camp opened the door just long enough to admit the frightened burro, which shot in as if launched from a catapult.
Throwing his weight against the door, Camp barred it again. He had plenty of provisions, and decided to remain quiet for a time, hoping that the lions would go away. Knowing that they are usually cowardly brutes, he was at a loss to account for their daring action except on the theory that it might be a pair with their cubs. He made the burro comfortable, and then took a look to see if the lions were still there. They were watching. All day Sunday at least one was in sight, and Camp decided to stay low. On the next day and the next the conditions were the same.
On the fourth morning Camp cautiously peered out. The lions were not in sight. He hurriedly saddled the burro, mounted. and turned the little beast toward civilization. The burro needed no urging, and Camp was congratulating himself on his escape when a piercing screech came from the trail behind. The lions had discovered his departure, and were in pursuit.
There was only one thing to do-beat the lions to civilization. Camp accepted the terms. So did the terrified little burro, which for once, at least, galloped like a race horse. Never was the descent to Lordsburg made in such time, and when Camp and his burro reached the town, both were exhausted, the one from fright, the other from the hard ride.