"
"A lynx! A Canada lynx, boys, as sure as death and taxes!" panted Herb
Heal, springing into the tent on the instant, with a burning brand in
his hand. "'Tain't any use your tumbling out, for you won't see him.
He's away in the thick of the woods now."
Cyrus gurgled inarticulate disappointment. At the first two words he had
sprung to his legs, having never encountered a lynx.
"The brute must have been prowling round our tent," went on Herb, his
voice thick from excitement. "He leaped past me just as I was stooping
to fix the fire, and startled me so that I guess I hollered. He got
about half a dozen yards off, then turned and crouched as if he was
going to spring back. Luckily, the axe was lying by me, just where I had
tossed it down after chopping the last heap of logs. I caught it up,
and flung it at him. It struck him on the side, and curled him up. I
thought he was badly hurt; but he jumped the next moment, screeched, and
made off. A pleasant scream he has; sounds kind o' cheerful at night,
don't it?"
No one answered this sarcasm; and Herb flung himself again upon his
boughs, pulling his worn blanket round him, determined not to relinquish
his night's sleep because a lynx had visited his camp.
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