24 RAMBLES ABOUT HOME. 



which the sound came, I was astonished to see a huge 

 wild-cat, or bay lynx, standing upon a floating log, with 

 its back arched and hair standing straight up. In the 

 brush- wood, that had been drifted with the log, stood a 

 turkey-buzzard, evidently entertaining no fear of the cat, 

 even if it had no designs upon it. A quarrel was going 

 on between them, I supposed, and my only thought was 

 how I might be there to see. To be sure, it was growing 

 dark, but this availed me nothing. I had no screen on 

 the canoe, and indeed could only sit bolt upright in the 

 little craft. If I went too near, the buzzard would fly ; 

 perhaps, too, the cat would swim off, although I had 

 doubts as to the latter event. Accepting matters as they 

 stood, I paddled to within a dozen yards, and then, check- 

 ing my course, kept the canoe in one position, with as 

 little movement on my part as possible, and became a 

 silent spectator. Of course, both the cat and the buzzard 

 saw me, and glared at me and at each other alternately ; 

 but neither changed its position, except to move its head. 

 There was evidently a mystery about it. Things were 

 not as they seemed. These creatures, it was now appar- 

 ent, were not there of their own choice. Satisfied of 

 this, I drew a little nearer. At this, the buzzard raised 

 its wings, solemnly shook its head, and expressed its dis- 

 approbation by ejecting a semi-fluid mass of half -digested 

 matter, the odors from which were not suggestive of 

 "Araby the blest." Still, the buzzard remained at his 

 post, and I at mine. As to the cat, it held this act of the 

 buzzard to be adding insult to injury, and struggled terri- 

 bly to be free ; and now, for the first time, I saw that it 

 was a prisoner. One of its fore-feet was securely held in 

 the jaws of a large steel trap, which was fastened to the 

 log. The truth was now plain. The animal had been 

 caught during the recent storm, miles up the river, and 



