GREY LYNX'S LAST HUNTING 23 



scended the tree, and continued her prowl at a 

 distance of some twenty paces from her selfish 

 partner, who had by this time finished up the 

 grouse. 



For perhaps half an hour nothing more 

 happened, and the temper of Grey Lynx's 

 mate grew momently more dangerous. It 

 was bad enough to be so hungry as she was, 

 but to be first led into a trap by Grey Lynx 

 and then to see him make a meal before her 

 eyes, this was hardly to be borne. All at 

 once she gave a great leap to one side, turning 

 in the air as she sprang, and came down, with 

 forepaws outstretched and claws wide spread, 

 just at the edge of a snow-draped bush. Out 

 of the corner of her eye she had seen a wood- 

 mouse. With her miraculous speed of action, 

 as of a mighty spring unloosed, she had caught 

 the tiny victim just as it was vanishing under 

 the refuge. It made but one mouthful, to be 

 sure, but it was quite as good as a snow-bunt- 

 ing would have been. She licked her chops, 

 gave Grey Lynx a sidelong look, and crept on. 



Slowly the moon rolled up the vitreous sky, 

 shortening the shadows of tree and stump. 

 The forest was more open here, having been 

 recently gone over by the lumbermen. Dense 

 thickets, single trees, ranks of stumps, aisles 

 and colonnades of tall second growth, not yet 



