Who's Afraid of Big Bear?

1916

Not This Idaho Woman, Who Shoots One "Thoroly Dead."

BOISE, Idaho — What would you do, Miss or Mrs. Chicago, if you were suddenly confronted alone in the wilds and removed from call of help, by a huge bear?

Faint? Run? Scream?

Mrs. H. L. Walter of Boise, supervisor of the kindergarten at Margaret's Hall and wife of Professor Walter of the high school, was placed in just such a position recently at the Walter camp on Lambing Creek. She was placidly fishing in the creek. Glancing up she saw bruin headed her way under full steam.

She picked up her trusty rifle and proceeded to shoot Mr. Bruin until he was thoroly dead. Her steady aim proved she was not in the least flustrated.

A. B. Zu Tavern of the high school faculty, who tells the story, says he saw a handsome skin hung on the cabin to dry. Its size, he says, tells the story of what might have happened had Mrs. Walter not been a good shot.

—The Saturday Blade, Chicago, Sept. 16, 1916, p. 11.

Man Attacked By Big Snake, Attacks Back

Lamoni, Iowa

Mr. C. F. Smith had an exciting experience with a snake Saturday. Driving through his feed lot he suddenly discovered a large snake chasing him with head erect, evidently greatly angered and bent on mischief. Mr. Smith continued to drive for about 200 yards while he plied the buggy whip vigorously on his snakeship. By that time the reptile was somewhat stunned and Mr. Smith alighted from his buggy thinking to complete killing it.

But in quieting his horses the lines broke and these had to first be repaired temporarily. Then he completed the killing of the snake which is thought by some to be a bull snake but is more likely a blowing viper and which measures 5 feet 8½ inches in length and 5-5/8 in circumference at the largest part of the body. Mr. Smith brought it to town and David Thomas has it bottled in alcohol. We are inclined to believe that the buggy must have disturbed his snakeship in some way which caused the manifestation of anger and the disposition to fight.

At any rate the experience is remarkable for this section and shows the presence of larger snakes than we supposed were lurking around here. — Lamoni Patriot.

This article is from an old scrapbook from the Leon, Iowa area. The entire scrapbook is online at this link, and this article is on page 57.

Hunter Treed by Wolves

1905

Hungry Pack Turn Tables on Minnesota Sportsman

Henry Temfehr, a business man of Chisholm, Minn., came to the court house to-day to claim $20 as bounty for a wolf pelt in his possession. He had a harrowing experience getting his pelt, according to his story, which is vouched for by Judge Brady of Hibbing.

Mr. Temfehr was hunting north of Chisholm a few days ago, and while returning to town toward evening a pack of wolves assembled and threatened to attack him. He sought safety in a tree, and he thought it would be easy work to dispatch the pack, one at a time, from his safe perch in the tree, but after firing one shot, at which he came near falling to the ground, he changed his mind.

The wolves scattered about, realizing their danger, and watched from a respectful distance. All night the wolves kept their coveted prey in the tree, and Mr. Temfehr, although warmly clothed, came near freezing to death. During the first part of the night he fired a few shots at the beasts, and when, numb with the cold, he climbed down in the morning, he found one dead wolf.

It is supposed the other wolves hesitated to eat their dead companion for fear of meeting a like fate. — Duluth Correspondence St. Paul Pioneer Press.

Meant to Have His Life

1910

Vicious Attack by Australian Natives on Trespassers in Their Country

Men who venture into the interior of northern Australia are likely to meet with adventures at the hands of hostile natives. Here is a matter-of-fact yarn concerning one James Runine McPherson, engaged in pearl-shelling operations:

On July 18 he was fishing for trepang (sea cucumber or sea slug) at the mouth of the Liverpool river. He landed in a dingey on the east bank of the river, where a bush smokehouse for the curing of trepang had been erected. He dispatched a Malay with canoes and working natives to gather trepang around a distant point, while two natives who paddled the dingey went off to the lugger, which was anchored more than a mile out, with a load of fresh water. He remained at the smokehouse with three old Junction Bay natives, who assisted him in manipulating the trepang. At 3 o'clock in the afternoon, feeling tired, he was reclining on the floor of the smokehouse, with a rifle across his knees, when he was startled by the loud swishing sound of several spears passing through the bough-covered enclosure.

McPherson immediately rushed out and saw seven or eight Liverpool river natives at the back of the smokehouse with spears shipped and with murder in their faces. Another shower of spears fell around him and he retired toward the water's edge and as he dodged one another long-barbed spear struck him in the hip. He felt no more, he says, than a burning twinge from the wound at the moment and instantly broke it off with his hand, leaving about eight inches of the barbed point buried in the fleshy part of his hip, The natives at this time were about forty yards away, having never shifted from their first point of attack near some thick bushes.

The man who had wounded McPherson was in the act of throwing another spear when McPherson shot and hit him. He then emptied his revolver at his assailants, who immediately disappeared in the adjacent scrub. Hearing shots, the two Daly river natives came hurrying ashore with the dingey, and conveyed McPherson to his boat, where he subsequently succeeded himself in tearing the barbed spearhead from the wound. Several barbs shaped like fishhooks were broken off in the process and remained in the wound.

The following day McPherson shifted his trepang gear and crew to another part of the coast and started for Palmerston to report the matter and have the wound attended to.

Men and Women Shocked by Billy Goat

1910

INDIANAPOLIS. — Mr. Billy Goat partook of a breakfast of hemp rope and started out for a little recreation from a shed in the rear of 916 Fowler street. It was a fortunate incident for several persons who met Mr. Goat that they had eaten their breakfasts before leaving home, thus avoiding the trouble of eating from the mantel or top of the kitchen cabinet. The animal was in a joyful mood, and liberty and fresh air made him tricky. The goat made no distinction as to sex. In his playfulness he enjoyed seeing a woman just as much as a man, and the result was that two women were badly frightened and shocked by having their bonnets shaken violently when they felt a sudden shock from the rear.

It was stated to the police that one man was shaken loose from his false teeth by the unexpected greeting of the goat, but the bicycleman who investigated failed to learn his name.

Clara Langsdale, 710 East Eleventh street, made the acquaintance of the goat, according to the police, and, although given a jolt by the animal, she maintained her footing and escaped injury.

In answer to an excited telephone call Bicyclemen Rodemacher and Rowe were sent to the place from the substation in East Seventeenth street. The goat by that time had moved over in Ashland avenue and persons in the avenue, including men, women and children, were giving the animal plenty of room. Rodemacher had never wrestled with goats before, but instinct warned him that the only manner in which to held a goat successfully was by his horns.

The bicycleman showed a bold front for the reason that he has to sit on a bicycle seat much of the time and he could not afford to take the chance of turning his back. Mr. Goat accepted the challenge of the bicycleman, and he started toward the men in a manner that caused them to glance with longing eyes at the lower branches of the nearest tree. They stood their ground, however, and Rodemacher met the animal with outstretched hands. He seized the goat's horns and perhaps saved himself from being butted over a church in the neighborhood. The bicycleman held on and during the struggle he called for Rowe.

"Just hold on, Roddie, until I get up this tree, and then let go," was Rowe's jest.

Rodemacher needed no advice, and he held on until Mr. Goat came to the conclusion that he was violating the law. A goat with better manners could not have been found after he seemed to realize that he was "pinched."

Faithful Dog Avenges a Policeman

1910

NEW YORK. — Patrolman Lawrence Cummins of the East One Hundred and Fourth street police station, on whose post the car barn gang has its headquarters, was beaten savagely by members of that band and was in the hospital for several weeks.

The first request Cummins made to Capt. Corcoran when he reported again for duty was to be assigned to his old post. He said he wanted to show the toughs that he was not afraid of them and that they could not drive a policeman from his place of duty. Capt. Corcoran took the same view and sent Cummins back.

From the moment he resumed his work the gang annoyed Cummins, hut it was not until the other night that the roughs got a chance to "do him up" again. He found about a dozen of them on the street insulting women who passed.

"Move on," commanded Cummins. But a truck driver, 19 years old, hurled insults at the policeman. Cummins arrested him. The rest of the gang disappeared, Cummins started for the police station with his prisoner, but as they went along there was a call from a roof. The prisoner broke from Cummins and ran into a house. The gang had gone to a roof, torn away the chimney and waited for the policeman and his prisoner. When the signal was given and the prisoner had fled from the firing zone his friends hurled the chimney bricks down at Cummins. After three had struck him on the head he fell unconscious. Men who saw the attack ran to the station. Sgt. Higgins and eight bluecoats raced to the rescue of their comrade.

Twice a week a Dalmatian dog, Bessie, who belongs to truck company No. 26 on One Hundred and Fourteenth street, visits the East One Hundred and Fourth street station, and has a supper at the expense of John Ritter. That night she was there and she went with the rescue squad.

When the men entered the house from which the bricks had been hurled on Cummins the dog went with them. But while the sergeant and his men went to the roof Bessie stopped at the second floor.

Back in a dark corner of the tenement hallway she had caught sight of a man, and, instead of going further, she leaped for him. She got a good grip on his trousers and he could not beat her off. Five minutes afterward the policemen on their way back to the street after a fruitless search, heard a scuffle. They found Bessie still holding on to the man. He was the escaped prisoner.