One time when Gramp was a young fellow living on Townsend Hill, he set out to look at some hemlock, starting up the west branch of the mountain. He found an old log road and had gone about a mile up this mountain road when he heard an animal holler right close to him. It frightened him so that he stopped and listened for some time, but then he decided to go on. In about five minutes the cry was repeated, and again he considered turning back. However, he went on, and after that, every so often, the animal would let out a blood curdling scream.
By now Father knew that it was not much further to the top of the mountain, and if he could ever reach the summit, he was certain that he could outrun any animal down the hill. He finally reached the summit and ran like the devil, never stopping until he was out of the woods.
After returning home, by another route, he told the hunters about hearing the animal cry, and how he thought it was a panther. They laughed at him, but the next morning at an early hour, Lute Hunt and Johnson struck out with guns and a dog toward Michigan. Sure enough, from the California lot, an old log road ran toward the Taft lot towards Chittenden Pond and parallel with the old log road Gramp had been following. And here they found the print of a panther's foot, big as a man's doubled-up fist, and stepped off as far as a horse would. The hunters tracked it way up the mountain.
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