The Ely miner. [volume] (Ely, Minn.) 1895-1986, 1903-02-20
The Swamp Tiger.
NORTHUMBERLAND Observation-Disclosures
By Lewis B. Miller.

T HAVE worked at handle-mak-
ers down about where L live
call me "Ax-handle Ike" But my
chief occupation is trapping-tr
ping coon and mink and otter.
All the swampy country of southeast
Missouri still abounds in fur-bearing
animals.
Besides my trapping and handle
making, usually try to preach on
Sundays. My matchmaking goes on
all the year round, but trapping be-
gins and ends with cold weather.
Nature never clothes an animal with
good fur except when it's absolutely
needed.
When l have accumulated consid-
cradle stock of furs and handles,
get somebody to haul me and them to
the river OF to the railroad, and then
l run up to ST. Louis and sell my
stock. L have been going to st. Louis
for years now, and the shops and
factories that use my handles know
they can depend on them.
There's still some large game in
the swamps-deer and turkey and
bear, and good many panthers. L
remember one time when big pan
Their came up out OF the swamps and
terrorized a whole settlement for
a few months. That brute caused as
much trouble and excitement as any
four-legged thing L ever got acquaint-
ed with. Because he was so big and
fierce we usually called him the
tiger-the swamp tiger.
1t happened good many years ago,
when L was a boy, living with my
uncle on a tongue of land that ran
out several miles into the swamps.
The upland was too rocky and the
swamp too sloppy to cultivate. But
the few families that lived there were
settled along the edge of the ridge,
and had little farms between the two.
One Gay toward fall my aunt sent
me over to Simpsons to borrow some
bacon. L was still going barefoot,
and had my trousers rolled nearly up
to my knees, L recollect. l was seven
teen years old, and as big as am
now. But everybody that felt like it
went barefoot there in warm wealth
er, even men so years old.
L crossed the ridge to Simpsons,
and after talking with the boys till
rather late, 1 borrowed a side of
accommodating we called it-and
started for home, carrying it on my
back. The middling was long and
wide, but thin and rather light. Our
gaunt, slab-sided swamp hogs never
make thick meat. The bacon had
been hanging in Simpsons smoke
house by two hickory withes, and /
was carrying it by the same withes,
one over each shoulder. There was
piece of tow cloth wrapped around it
to keep it from greasing my shirt.
Dusk caught me three-quarters of
a mile from home, and / heard what 1
thought was a woman calling.
didn't recognize the voice, but had
screaming at me. 1 had tarried longer
at Simpsons than 1 ought to have
done, and / felt certain she had got
out of patience and started after me.
'Yes'm, Tn a-coming!" 1 shouted
back. Then hitched the bacon a lit
tie higher and hurried along the
rocky road at trot. The screams
sounded angry-Aunt Mat didn't have
a very gentle voice when she was out
of temper.
Before long heard another
scream. Looking down toward the
swamp, I saw not Aunt Mat, but
some big animal coming up the open
slope to meet me. He looked like
cat, but cat as big as cow. The
curve of the land made it impossible
for me to see him while he was on
the ground, but whenever he jumped
could see him plainly enough. Every
jump must have carried him eight or
ten feet into the air; and now and
then he would stop and give one of
those loud, womanish screams.
1 started to run back along that
rocky road as fast as I could. 1
couldn't step far enough. My hat
flew off, but it never occurred to me
to drop the bacon. Not far back
the road forked. One fork crossed
to Simpsons, the other led up our
side of the ridge to Uncle Jimmy
Whites. 1t was two miles back to
Simpsons, and only mile to where
White lived. So I took the fork to
Uncle Jimmy's.
don't recollect feeling that bacon
touch me after l got well under way.
I guess it stood out straight behind,