In August 1795 my father, Jacob Tome, Jerry Morrison and myself started for an elk hunt. Taking salt and flour with us, we pushed up our canoe to a place called Round Island [in the West Branch of the Susquehanna]. After hunting two days among the islands, we became convinced that there were no elk there, although they were sometimes very plenty, collecting at this season in droves. Morrison proposed that we should proceed to a point called Stony Lick, about seven miles back, on the east side of the river, at the second fork of Pine Creek and twelve miles above their junction. My father readily consented to the proposal, as Morrison was an older and more experienced hunter than he.
When we arrived within two miles of the Lick, we discovered the tracks of two elks [sic], a buck and a doe [today we call them bull and cow]. We followed the tracks about half a mile when we judged by the indications that they had taken a great leap, as if suddenly frightened. The trails from that place took a different direction.
My father and Morrison followed the buck while I took the track of the doe, keeping sight of my companions at the same time. Before I had proceeded far, I found some of the small intestines of the doe upon the ground. I called to the others to come and before they arrived I found the entrails strewn all along the track. My companions now came up and Morrison said it was the work of a panther.
After following the track a short distance we found the doe lying dead, and bearing marks which fully confirmed Morrison’s conjecture. She was completely disembowelled, her throat torn open, and her blood sucked. We skinned her, salted the meat in the skin, and put it away between two logs.
We now resumed our route for Stony Lick and encamped near there that night. About eight o’clock the next morning, while we were preparing to return to the meat we had left the previous day and see if it had been disturbed by the panther, we heard the roar of an elk. Morrison decided at once that it was the buck which we had been tracking and started in pursuit, taking with him his dog. If he could not shoot him, he was to let the dog chase him down.
My father and I remained at our encampment waiting to hear the discharge of Morrison’s gun. After going half a mile he met the elk coming on his back track and brought him down at a distance of about sixty yards. We cut off his horns [sic - antlers] which were upward of six feet in length, having eleven branches – six on one horn and five on the other. The carcass weighed between five and six hundred pounds. Our next object was to get him down to the water where we could skin him. This was finally accomplished after three hours dragging and rolling.
Father and Morrison commenced skinning the buck and asked if I was willing to go where he had left the doe, about three-quarters of a mile distant, and see if it had been disturbed. I readily consented, on condition that they would allow me to take a gun and the two dogs. I was but thirteen years old and they thought I would not venture so far from them. As I was starting away, I overheard Morrison saying to my father, “You will see him coming back soon.” My father however said if I started he did not think I would return without seeing the doe. I went, and finding everything undisturbed, returned to my companions.
They finished skinning and salting the elk about two o’clock and Morrison proposed to go himself over Mud Lick, about two miles distant, on the east branch of the second fork, and see if any elk had been there while my father and I were to watch for them at Stony Lick. We were to meet in the evening where we had skinned the elk.
We went down to the Lick and concealed ourselves behind some logs. My father commenced mending his moccasins and directed me to watch the Lick. I stationed myself in front of some roots, out of my father’s sight. A small stream ran below me in which were some very fine large trout. The stream was very shallow and it occurred to me that if I could stop the water I might throw out some of the trout. So I slipped down to the stream, unperceived by my father, went up past him, threw an old log across and gathered some moss and stopped the water. Then I went below and threw out some thirty fine large trout.
My father looked after me and seeing what I was doing asked me laughingly if that was the way I watched the Lick. I replied that I wanted some trout for supper. While I was stringing my fish I heard a stone rattle about a hundred yards below me. I turned and saw a panther looking at me.
I sprang up the bank and informed by father what I had seen. Telling me to keep quiet and make the dog lie down, he stationed himself behind a root having a hole in it through which he pointed his gun and waited the panther’s approach. When it had come within three rods of us it paused, with its fore feet upon the bank and its mouth open, displaying a formidable array of glistening teeth.
My father fired and it fell back, dead. The ball had passed through its open mouth and broken the vertebrae of the neck. We cut it open and left it there. It was larger than any panther I ever saw before or since, and I have seen some thirty. We supposed it to weigh between two and three hundred pounds.
When we returned to camp we found Morrison there before us. We now brought our venison together and built a scaffold upon which we placed it to dry. It may be well here to describe the manner of preserving elk’s meat in the summer. It is first cut into thin slices and salted down in the skin. We always carried a bag of salt with us for that purpose. Two large poles are laid across crotches about five feet high and a number of smaller ones are laid across these. After the meat has lain a sufficient length of time in the skin, it is spread upon this scaffold and a slow fire built under it. The fire is gradually increased and the meat turned until it is dried through. In this state it is called jerk.
Leaving my father to attend to this, Morrison and I started for home to procure horses with which to draw home our meat, going by way of the creek. It was twelve miles to the first fork and four miles farther to Morrison’s residence. I staid with Morrison that night and the next day went home, seven miles, took two horses and returned to Morrison’s that night. When I arrived there I found a man from Maryland who wished to go into the woods and hunt elk. He took our horses and Morrison’s brother-in-law took two others with which they started for the encampment, which they reached that night. The next day they loaded and came to Morrison’s and the following one we went home to my father’s residence with his share of the venison and hides. (Tome 1854: 18-22)