A CATAMOUNT. 91 



limb, he watches the approach of his victim; then 

 with a single bound lights upon its back, planting his 

 claws deep in the quivering flesh. It requires a 

 strong effort then to shake him oft', or loosen his 

 hold. 



His cry of hunger is very much like that of a child 

 in distress, and is indescribably fearful when heard at 

 night in the forest. It is seldom, however, that a 

 traveler sees any of these animals of prey. They are 

 more afraid of him, than he of them ; and winding 

 him at a long distance, flee to their hiding places. 

 It is only in winter that they are dangerous. I have 

 often, however, roused them up by my approach. I 

 once heard a catamount scream in a thick clump of 

 bushes not a hundred yards from me — it was just at 

 twilight, and made me bound to my feet as if struck 

 by a sudden blow, and sent the blood tingling to the 

 ends of my toes and fingers. You have heard of elec- 

 trical shocks, galvanic batteries, etc. — well, their 

 effects are mere slight nervous stimulants compared to 

 the wild, unearthly screech of a catamount at night 

 in the woods. This fellow was not satisfied with one 

 yell, but moving a little way off, coolly squatted down 

 and gave another and another, as if enraged at our 



