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THE GAME FIELD 371 
on Cap Tree Island off Oak Beach, and so long 
as the Islip trustees’ reserve in Havemeyer 
Point leases the right of local citizens to shoot 
over the marshes of the Point, so long will 
natural wages prevail among the baymen with- 
out need of recourse to trade unionism. And 
with this will flourish free sport for the visitants 
of the region, and to all, both baymen and 
sportsmen, that simple, independent life which 
is the true end of our social order 

To Photograph Bears 
W. H. Wright, of the wild and woolly State of 
Washington, has been trying a new scheme for 
photographing bears. But first let it be dis- 
tinctly understood that Mr. Wright is a bona 
fide naturalist and photographer—not a news- 
paper creation, like our old friend, Abbott 
Nelson, of Skowhegan, Me., or the skunk-farm 
man from Jowa. Mr. Wright has hunted the 
big game of the West for, lo, these many years, 
and the stories of his experiences will fill a book 
—if they are not already in the hands of a pub- 
lisher. 
Mr. Wright, when last we heard from him, 
was heading for tall timber in Wyoming, and 
his scheme was to set up his camera beside the 
bear trails and make an arrangement whereby 
any bear that should happen along would take 
his own photograph; by his lodging a small wire 
that in turn would release the shutter of the 
‘camera. Mr. Wright’s collection of photo- 
graphs of wild game is one of the finest in 
America. 

Panther Near New York 
One night in August last, when Maggie 
France and Harry Dewitt were coming home 
from a dance at Jack Simpson’s, at the head 
of Big Tink Pond, Pike County, Pa., they were 
startled by a woman’s scream in the dense 
woods at the side of the road. A few nights 
afterward Wad Brown, at the lower end of the 
lake, heard a woman scream in the. woods. 
Kirk Quick was out with his gun shortly after- 
ward, and heard this weird screech down in 
the swale near Whitehall. Kirk said: ‘‘That 
ain’t no woman. It’s some sort of varmint.” 
So, the next time it screeched, he mimicked it, 
and he declares that it came nearer and nearer. 
Kirk also says that it was very dark in the 
woods, so he went home and left it. One 
Rolandson was fishing at Wolf Lake. He 
heard no screams; but darkness overtook him, 
and some “‘critter,”’ as he said, followed him 
through the woods, stopping when he stopped, 
and moving when he moved. Mr. Elmer 
Gregor, one of the board of governors of the 
Forest Lake Park Association, found signs on 
the Mast Hope Road left by some large 


Point Shooting on Fire Island Inlet 
carnivorous animal, which had been feeding 
upon rabbits. 
We have questioned all these people, and 
got these stories from them. At the time we 
made our inquiries, none of them knew the ex- 
perience of the others. Mr. Dan Beard, who 
has a camp on Big Tink Pond, was next 
sought, and when asked if he had heard any- 
thing, he at length admitted that, as he was 
about to retire one night, he had heard a sound 
which corresponded exactly to the scream of a 
panther; he hadn’t mentioned the circumstance 
for fear of being laughed at. Mr. Cole, the 
postmaster at Rowlands Station, met a panther 
on the road, twenty-five miles from there, last 
summer. 
From the evidence thus gathered, there seems 
to be no doubt that a real, live ‘‘ painter”? made 
a temporary stay around Big Tink Pond. 
After we spoke to Mr. Beard, he and Jack 
Wilder took a coon dog and spent a night in 
search of the beast; but it had probably left 
before that time, for nothing has since been 
seen or heard of it. We would like to hear from 
the neighborhood counties in New York and 
Pennsylvania, if any of the inhabitants have 
seen the beast, for Big Tink Pond is only 117 
miles from New York City, and it would be 
interesting to know that such big game is so 
close at hand. 
