I went to the big spruce and there, sure 

 enough, were flecks of bright brown here 

 and there where the rough outer shell had 

 been chipped off. And there also, glimmer- 

 ing white, was a bit of dried slime where a 

 fish had rested for an instant against the bark. 

 The beast, whatever he was, had climbed the 

 tree with his booty; and the discovery was no 

 sooner made than I was shinning up eagerly 

 after him. 



Near the scraggy top I found my net, its 

 long handle wedged firmly in between two 

 branches, its bow caught on a projecting 

 stub, its bag hanging down over empty space. 

 In the net was a big wildcat, his round head 

 driven through a hole which he had bitten 

 in the bottom, the tough meshes drawn taut 

 as fiddle-strings about his throat. All four 

 legs had clawed or pushed their way through 

 the mesh, till every kick and struggle served 

 only to bind and choke him more effectually. 



From marks I made out at last the outline 

 of the story. Pekompf had found the fish 

 and tried to steal them, but his suspicions 

 were roused by the queer net and the 



