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reached the turn that led to Dumont's place； and a deep…toned
rolling howl came from the river flat below； followed by a number
of higher…pitched howls in answering chorus。 We could see
nothing； but we listened hard。 The song was repeated； the
hunting…cry of the Wolves。 It faded； the night was stirred by
another； the sharp bark and the short howl； the signal 〃close
in〃； a bellow came up； very short； for it was cut short。
And King as he touched his Horse said grimly： 〃That's him； he is
out with the pack； an' thar goes another Beef。〃
THE BOY AND THE LYNX
I
THE BOY
He was barely fifteen； a lover of sport and uncommonly keen； even
for a beginner。 Flocks of Wild Pigeons had been coming all day
across the blue Lake of Cayggeonull； and perching in line on the
dead limbs of the great rampikes that stood as monuments of fire；
around the little clearing in the forest； they afforded tempting
marks； but he followed them for hours in vain。 They seemed to
know the exact range of the old…fashioned shotgun and rose on
noisy wings each time before he was near enough to fire。 At
length a small flock scattered among the low green trees that
grew about the spring； near the log shanty； and taking advantage
of the cover； Thorburn went in gently。 He caught sight of a
single Pigeon close to him； took a long aim and fired。 A sharp
crack resounded at almost the same time and the bird fell dead。
Thorburn rushed to seize the prize just as a tall young man
stepped into view and picked it up。
〃Hello； Corney！ you got my bird！〃
〃Your burrud！ Sure yours flew away thayre。 I saw them settle
hayer and thought I'd make sure of wan with the rifle。〃
A careful examination showed that a rifle…ball as well as a
charge of shot had struck the Pigeon。 The gunners had fired on
the same bird。 Both enjoyed the joke； though it had its serious
side； for food as well as ammunition was scarce in that backwoods
home。
Corney； a superb specimen of a six…foot Irish…Canadian in early
manhood； now led away to the log shanty where the very scarcity
of luxuries and the roughness of their lives were sources of
merriment。 For the Colts； though born and bred in the backwoods
of Canada； had lost nothing of the spirit that makes the Irish
blood a world…wide synonym of heartiness and wit。
Corney was the eldest son of a large family。 The old folks lived
at Petersay； twenty…five miles to the southward。 He had taken up
a 〃claim〃 to carve his own home out of the woods at Fenebonk； and
his grown sisters； Margat； staid and reliable； and Loo； bright
and witty； were keeping house for him。 Thorburn Alder was
visiting them。 He had just recovered from a severe illness and
had been sent to rough it in the woods in hope of winning some of
the vigor of his hosts。 Their home was of unhewn logs； unfloored；
and roofed with sods； which bore a luxuriant crop of grass and
weeds。 The primitive woods around were broken in two places： one
where the roughest of roads led southward to Petersay； the other
where the sparkling lake rolled on a pebbly shore and gave a
glimpse of their nearest neighbor's house four miles across the
water。
Their daily round had little change。 Corney was up at daybreak to
light the fire； call his sisters； and feed the horses while they
prepared breakfast。 At six the meal was over and Corney went to
his work。 At noon； which Margat knew by the shadow of a certain
rampike falling on the spring； a clear notification to draw fresh
water for the table； Loo would hang a white rag on a pole； and
Corney； seeing the signal； would return from summer fallow or
hayfield； grimy； swarthy； and ruddy； a picture of manly vigor and
honest toil。 Thor might be away all day； but at night； when they
again assembled at the table； he would come from lake or distant
ridge and eat a supper like the dinner and breakfast； for meals
as well as days were exact repeats： pork； bread； potatoes； and
tea； with occasionally eggs supplied by a dozen hens around the
little log stable； with； rarely； a variation of wild meat； for
Thor was not a hunter and Corney had little time for anything but
the farm。
II
THE LYNX
A huge four…foot basswood had gone the way of all trees。 Death
had been generoushad sent the three warnings： it was the
biggest of its kind； its children were grown up； it was hollow。
The wintry blast that sent it down had broken it across and
revealed a great hole where should have been its heart。 A long
wooden cavern in the middle of a sunny opening； it now lay； and
presented an ideal home for a Lynx when she sought a sheltered
nesting…place for her coming brood。
Old was she and gaunt； for this was a year of hard times for the
Lynxes。 A Rabbit plague the autumn before had swept away their
main support； a winter of deep snow and sudden crusts had killed
off nearly all the Partridges； a long wet spring had destroyed
the few growing coveys and had kept the ponds and streams so full
that Fish and Frogs were safe from their armed paws； and this
mother Lynx fared no better than her kind。
The little oneshalf starved before they camewere a double
drain； for they took the time she might have spent in hunting。
The Northern Hare is the favorite food of the Lynx； and in some
years she could have killed fifty in one day； but never one did
she see this season。 The plague had done its work too well。
One day she caught a Red…squirrel which had run into a hollow log
that proved a trap。 Another day a fetid Blacksnake was her only
food。 A day was missed； and the little ones whined piteously for
their natural food and failing drink。 One day she saw a large
black animal of unpleasant but familiar smell。 Swiftly and
silently she sprang to make attack。 She struck it once on the
nose； but the Porcupine doubled his head under； his tail flew up；
and the mother Lynx was speared in a dozen places with the little
stinging javelins。 She drew them all with her teeth； for she had
〃learned Porcupine〃 years before； and only the hard push of want
would have made her strike one now。
A Frog was all she caught that day。 On the next； as she ranged
the farthest woods in a long； hard hunt； she heard a singular
calling voice。 It was new to her。 She approached it cautiously；
up wind； got many new odors and some more strange sounds in
coming。 The loud； clear； rolling call was repeated as the mother
Lynx came to an opening in the forest。 In the middle of it were
two enormous muskrat or beaver…houses； far bigger than the
biggest she ever before had seen。 They were made partly of logs
and situated； not in a pond； but on a dry knoll。 Walking about
them were a number of Partridges； that is； birds like Partridges；
only larger and of various colors； red； yellow； and white。
She quivered with the excitement that in a man would have been
called buck…fever。 Foodfoodabundance of food； and the old
huntress sank to earth。 Her breast was on the ground； her elbows
above her back； as she made stalk； her shrewdest； subtlest stalk；
one of those Partridges she must have at any price； no trick now
must go untried； no error in this hunt； if it took hoursall day
she must approach with certainty to win before the quarry took
to flight。
Only a few bounds it was from wood shelter to the great
rat…house； but she was an hour in crawling that small space。 From
stump to brush； from log to bunch of grass she sneaked； a
flattened form； and the Partridges saw her not。 They fed about；
the biggest uttering the ringing call that first had fallen on
her ear。
Once they seemed to sense their peril； but a long await dispelled
the fear。 Now they were almost in reach； and she trembled with
all the eagerness of the hunting heart and the hungry maw。 Her
eye centred on a white one not quite the nearest； but the color
seemed to hold her gaze。
There was an open space around the rat…house； outside that were
tall weeds； and stumps were scattered everywhere。 The white bird
wandered behind these weeds； the red one of the loud voice flew
to the top of the rat…mound and sang as before。 The mother Lynx
sank lower yet。 It seemed an alarm note； but no； the white one
still was there； she could see its feathers gleaming through the
weeds。 An open space now lay about。 The huntress； flattened like
an empty skin； trailed slow and silent on the ground behind a log
no thicker than her neck； if she could reach that tuft of brush
she could get unseen to the weeds and then would be near enough
to spring。 She could smell them nowthe rich and potent smell of
life； of flesh and blood； that set her limbs a…tingle and her
eyes a…glow。
The Partridges still scratched and fed； another flew to the high
top； but the white one remained。 Five more slow…gliding； silent
steps； and the Lynx was behind the weeds； the white bird shining
through； she gauged the distance； tried the footing； swung her
hind legs to clear some fallen brush； then leaped direct with all
her force； and the white one never knew the death it died； for
the fateful gray shadow dropped； the swift and deadly did their
work； and before the other birds could realize the foe or fly；
the Lynx was gone； with the white bird squirming in her jaws。
Uttering an unnecessary growl of