Now, not long ago, last year, or the year before that, this pant’er was seen in the Catalooch country,
by a man a-fishin’. Well, he reported it, he said it’as the awfulest lookin’ thing he ever saw. It was a-
chasin’ a deer, and he reported it and they put guards in there, they was three of ‘em, to watch for it.
And they heard a racket, and they looked, and they saw a deer comin’, just a high-tailin’ it. And in a
little bit, somethin’ looked awful. A wooly head, long, and when it jumped, it jumped . . . .
It’d been one hundred years they said since it’d ever been told that the’ was a pant’er in that
mountain. Before that they was seen. Now it’d been that many years – I never reported mine,
because I didn’ see it; I couldn’ swear it was a pant’er. But I believe it was, don’t you? Don’t you think
it was, Roy? A pant’er’s red. Not red, brown. You know a mountain lion can’t climb a tree, but a pant’
er can climb anything.
So, we went on home. I told my mother. She said, “Yeah, you just like to ‘a’ got it that time. If it hadn’
been for your fire, you’d been gone. It’d suck the blood out of you, cut your throat and suck the blood
out of you. They don’t eat you. They don’t eat the animals they kill; they suck the blood out.” She
grew up in the mountains, where these stories . . . these women ‘t had contact with pant’ers out in the
mountains when they was a-havin’ to go from one house to another.
She told the story about a woman, she’s about a mile – she visited her place and she was comin’
back – and she heard somethin’ hit the ground behind her before she got to her destination. She
looked back and . . . big eyes. It leaped one time and come up pretty close to her, and she
remembered what to do. They’d done been told. She begin to undress, pulled off her clothes, took
one down. While he tore that up, she flew on down the road. She seem him comin’ ag’in, she had to
do the same thing. When she got in to her home, she ‘as naked. That’s the way they do you. The’
[wudn] never many of them even way back, but the’ was some. He was layin’ up on a limb, waitin’ for
her to come back. He knowed where she went out, no doubt. And he just sailed off that limb. The
smell was what done it.