GREY LYNX'S LAST HUNTING 13 



by night than by day. So, well after night- 

 fall, he had returned to the farm, bringing 

 his ravenous mate with him. 



At one side of the yard, startlingly bright 

 in the light of the low moon, stood the settler's 

 house ; at the other side, two low, connected 

 barns, with a shed running half-way to the 

 house. The long, black shadows of the 

 buildings stretched nearly across the open 

 space between the farmstead and the woods. 

 The snow was hard packed and frozen, covered 

 with an inch of recent and lighter snowfall, 

 which the winds would presently come and 

 sweep away into the fence-corners. Through 

 the space of shadow Grey Lynx crept like a 

 denser shadow, till he reached the corner of 

 the nearest barn. Here he crouched, making 

 himself as small as possible, while he took 

 a long sniff at one of the cracks in the warped, 

 ill-seasoned, hemlock boarding. Then he 

 turned his head and looked at his mate, who 

 was crouching some ten paces to the rear. As 

 if this was a signal that all was as it should be, 

 she ran lightly forward and crouched again 

 beside him. 



From within, besides that warm, distract- 

 ing, woolly smell, came comfortable rustlings 

 of dry hay, and sounds of chewing, and safe 

 contented breathings. It was obvious that 



