beast was coming after him. Again he yelled for
help, all the while forcing his body to keep running
and trying to breathe.
By the time Joe rushed into the town he saw that
the townspeople had assembled and were carrying
guns. Hope grew within him; maybe he would not
be killed.
He tried to run faster, but tripped and hurtled to
the ground. Knowing the creature would be upon
him in an instant, he closed his eyes, waiting for
something horrible to happen. He felt something
big fall on him that drove all the air that was left in
his lungs out. The creature, whatever it was, was
crushing him under its weight. He opened his eyes
and found himself looking into the golden eyes of a
panther. Joe and Panther stared at each other for a
few seconds, the boy seeing his whole life flashing
before his eyes. This is it, he thought, I hope Ma
ain’t too sad. The panther proceeded to lick Joe’s
face with its rough tongue, which felt like tree
bark. He was dimly aware of the people yelling and
running around. Joe waited for the panther to bite,
sure that a fatal blow would come soon and wishing
that he had been a better boy.
Instead of biting, it began tumbling around with
him, picking him up and hitting him with soft paws
as if it were playing with a kitten. A thought flashed
through Joe’s head: Just like a cat plays with a
mouse. Joe was yelling and the townspeople were
yelling and neither could figure out how to deal
with this problem.
Then, as if coming from a long distance, Joe heard
one voice sounding above the others. “Don’t shoot!
That’s my panther!”
Everyone, including the panther, turned around to
look at the young man who had spoken. The man
walked calmly up to the panther and called, “Here,
Pete, come here boy.”
Immediately, the panther, to the wonderment of the
townspeople and the intense joy and relief of Joe,
lost interest in the petrified boy and ran to the man
who had called him. The big panther rubbed on the
young man’s outstretched hand and lay down for a
belly rub.
“See, completely harmless,” the young man said,
vigorously rubbing the content cat. Joe sat up
sheepishly. He had not been eaten or killed or
maimed in any way. The townspeople saw that
no harm had been done to the boy and were too
relieved to be angry. The young man and his
panther left to catch up with their circus.
That night his mother gave him a beating for
sneaking out but her heart was not in it. She was
too glad to have her boy back in one piece.
The next morning Joe was greeted by all the
younger kids with awe and reverence and by the
older kids with assumed indifference that fooled
no one. Even the adults seemed to forget that the
panther had been friendly. The event evidently
left the impression that Joe had tangled with a
wild panther and come away without a scratch. Joe
basked unabashedly in his fame for a few hours.
However, after being batted around by the panther’s
powerful paws his sore muscles were crying out in
pain. After the glow of his new fame had worn off
he could not think of his incident without wincing.
As soon as darkness fell he would look again for the
glowing circles of light, sure that a monster would
jump out at him. After a few nights of nightmares,
Joe decided that he would live a life that a saint
would be proud to call his own. However glorious
the rewards, there was too much uncertainty
and fright involved; he did not care to be famous
anymore.
After a few weeks had gone by, Joe was seen, with
his army of boys, furiously defending their position
against the opposing side of boys, without a care
in the world except the outcome of his carefully
planned battle.
11
BAYLEY BULLETIN, SEP-NOV 2016
