After drinking wine freely at Stevenson’s tavern at the mouth of Pine Creek in the fall of 1799, the talk turned to elk-hunting. Stevenson, the tavern keeper, stepped up to Jacob Tome, Philip Tome’s father. Philip tells us what happened. (Tome 1854: 26-32)

[Stevenson] asked him if he could catch a live elk. He replied he could when Stevenson offered to bet him on it. My father asked what he was willing to bet. Stevenson said he was willing to go any length and would bet two hundred and fifty pounds. My father said he would accept the bet.

Stevenson pledged a house, lot and tanyard worth about the amount and my father gave seven hundred and fifty dollars worth of lumber and two satisfactory sureties as security for the performance of the undertaking.

The elk was to be between fourteen and sixteen hands high and was to be caught alive and brought home in less than four months. My father finally asked to the middle of February as there might be no snow in the early part of the winter to enable him to track them. Stevenson said hi might have till the first of March if he wished. The articles of agreement were drawn, the security given and the bargain concluded. It was then considered impossible to catch an elk alive, and all the old hunters said it was lost money.

The first of January 1800 he prepared for his hunt and started, taking two of his boys and a man named Maddock with a horse, four dogs, and ropes sufficient to hold an elk. They ascended on the ice eight miles to Morrison’s, told him what he had undertaken and requested him to go with them as they wished to get his dog which was good to hunt elk. Morrison declined going along as he considered an attempt to capture an animal so powerful and dangerous to be attended with much peril and chose to keep out of harm’s way.

My father therefore concluded to try it the next morning with the help he then had. We accordingly started out on the east side of Pine Creek, up a small stream called Trout Run,[i] which we ascended seven miles. We then came to a spot where the signs in the snow indicated that six or seven elk had been about a week before. We determined to encamp there for the night, and as the weather was very cold and the snow began to fall, we all set to work with an axe and two tomahawks and built a shanty of hemlock boughs.

The next morning as the wind continued to blow very hard, and the snow was falling rapidly, we concluded to remain there until the weather was more favorable. About eleven o’clock the wind ceased and we started. We traveled until three, but as the snow had filled up all the niches we could not find the tracks. The weather being clear and cold, my father proposed that two of us should remain and build a shanty and the other two start out, each on different routes, to look for elk tracks. My father and older brother started out while Maddock and I remained to build a shanty.

The others came back about sundown. We had our shanty completed, my father officiated as cook and in our snug walls of hemlock boughs we forgot the toils and perils of the chase. My brother reported that he had seen tracks in a muddy place where the elk had been the night before.

The next morning we started about sunrise and proceeded to the place where Jacob had seen the tracks, arriving there about nine o’clock. The elk had taken a southern direction. When we had followed them about nine miles we came to a place where they had been feeding and the tracks were quite fresh. They had been gone, as we judged, about two hours. We thought it best not to disturb them that day as it was nearly night. We accordingly made an encampment and stayed there that night.

The following morning, the 5^th instant [January 1800] we started about sunrise and after following the track about three miles and a half, we found where the elk had lain the night before. About a mile farther we discovered two elk, both bucks [bulls] and one a little larger than the other. We tied up all the dogs but one and let him give them chase. The larger one stood and fought the dog, but the other, as soon as he saw us, turned and started off in another direction, and we let another dog go. As the second dog came up the elk started off, taking a southeast course to Pine Creek, which he crossed.

We all started after him and followed as fast as possible for twelve miles when we met the dogs coming back. It was now four o’clock in the afternoon and after proceeding two miles farther encamped for the night taking care to secure the dogs.

The next morning, January 6^th, we started before sunrise and after going about a mile came to a place where the elk had fought the dogs and beat them back. About a mile farther he began to feed and there lay down and staid all night. We kept on until we came within sight of him and let the two best dogs go.

The elk kept a southeast course about eight miles, the dogs pursuing very closely, when he turned and fought them, as we judged, about half an hour. He then struck a northern or northeast course to cross Big Pine Creek. He then ran some four miles farther when he again turned and fought the dogs. From there he took a north course and ran about eight miles farther to the Stony Fork on the second fork of Pine Creek. There he stood in the water and fought the dogs.

We came to within two miles of that place and encamped for the night. About midnight the dogs came back to the camp. The old elk-dog appeared very uneasy, looking wishfully in the direction from which they had come in, from which we concluded that the elk could not be far off.

In the morning we started again and soon came to the spot where the dogs had held the elk at bay in the water as we judged about four hours. After the elk left the water he had gone about two miles and commenced feeding. When we had proceeded a short distance we found the elk lying down. He sprang up as we approached and stood looking at us until we were quite near him. We then let loose the two dogs which had not run the day before. They pursued him very closely about six miles and stopped him until we came up. We then let the other dogs go thinking he would go to some rock where he could ward off the attack of the dogs. He however took a southern course toward Big Pine Creek, and after running about four miles got upon a rock on the side of the hill. But here he was so warmly attacked that he could not maintain his position, and so he started on again, ran about four miles farther, and backed up against the root of an upturned tree where he again stood at bay.

We then endeavored, by standing upon the trunk of the upturned tree, to throw a rope over his horns but did not succeed. He started again, taking a southerly course toward the second fork of Big Pine Creek, and stopped on a large rock.

At sundown we stopped within two miles of him, and one of the party went forward a short distance and discovered where he was by the barking of the dogs. We then concluded to proceed as it was a bright, moonlight evening and reached the rock about eight o’clock. We built a large fire within a few feet of the rock and about eleven o’clock we made the dogs come and lie down by the fire. At two o’clock the elk lay down on the rock and began chewing his cud.

In the morning at daylight he arose, stretched himself, and walked around the rock. We cooked our breakfast and all hands prepared for the contest. At eight o’clock we began to maneuver. We tried at first to throw the rope over his head, but he jumped from the rock and broke away.

We then let all our dogs after him and fired our guns to encourage them. He ran about half a mile but the dogs pursued him so closely and closed in with him so often that he wheeled about and returned to the rock. We then concluded to divert his attention to the lower side of the rock by keeping the dogs there and throwing sticks and stones while father slipped unobserved to the upper side and with a pole about twenty feet long threw the noose over the horns.

All hands then went on the upper side of the hill and fastened the rope around a tree and made an ineffectual attempt to draw him from the rock. We next set the dogs on him behind, which drove him to the edge, when we gave a sudden pull and brought him off the rock which was there about four feet high. He then plunged around and became so much entangled that he had only ten feet of play.

We then placed another long rope upon the other horn and carried it down the hill its whole length, tied it, and then loosed the first one. Two of the party then drove him down the hill as far as the rope would allow him. We continued in this manner to fasten the ropes alternately until we had worked him from tree to tree down the hill. We found this a slow and difficult manner of proceeding as he was constantly becoming entangled by his struggles among the trees and underbrush. So, we unloosed both ropes and placed two men to each rope and let one dog keep him going. When he went too fast we could check him by snubbing the rope around a tree.

He started and walked very gently till he reached the creek, which was covered with ice. This was about three-fourths of a mile from the rock where he was captured. We fastened one rope across the creek, which was about three rods [fifty feet] wide, keeping the other in our hands, and drove him upon the ice when he slipped and made several ineffectual attempts to regain his feet. We all went to the other side of the creek and dragged him across.

As soon as he gained a footing he sprang up and walked up the hill toward us. We then fastened the ropes in opposite directions to give him no play, and as it was now four o’clock in the afternoon we determined to let him remain here until we could bring a horse from Morrison’s to take him home.

We accordingly cut and placed before him some elkwood browse which he ate and my brother and Maddock went for the horse, leaving my father and myself to watch our prize. They returned at eight o’clock the next morning.

We had cut a road through the underbrush about one mile to Big Pine Creek. We now secured him close up to a tree and placed a large rope about forty feet long over his horns, down near to his head, and then tied a smaller rope to the upper part of each horn. We then attached the horse to the large rope [and] a man took each a small rope behind and one of the hands started the horse.

When the elk first started he plunged considerably and became entangled in the rope but one of the hands drove him back and we took a fresh start. At the end of three hours we reached Big Pine Creek, one mile from the place of starting. Here we met with no further obstruction as the ice was slightly covered with snow and had thawed a little so that the elk found a good footing. We therefore proceeded without difficulty the next five miles, when we arrived at Morrison’s and placed our captive in a stable.

Before we had taken the elk farther a heavy rain came on and broke up the ice in the river. Our horse ran off and was drowned and we took our elk home, eight miles down the river, on a float. We wrote to Stevenson, informing him that we had captured the elk and asking him if he was willing to give up the bet without having it conveyed to his house. He replied that he had learned of the capture and that he cheerfully gave up the stakes without farther trouble.

This was the first grown elk that was caught alive on the waters of the Susquehanna. It was sixteen hands high. Its horns were five and a half feet long, with eleven branches. (Tome 1854: 26-32)

In case you’re wondering, Philip Tome did not mention what happened to this elk. What do you think they did with it?

[i] This is the Trout Run that is north of Williamsport, not the Trout Run in Benezette.