114 THE UPPER YUKON 



sounds of any kind whatever. Absolute still- 

 ness reigned supreme, and the drop of the 

 proverbial pin could have been heard. 



Then, without previous warning, a pierc- 

 ing screech came from some object apparently 

 on one of the two extending limbs of the 

 spruce tree directly over my head, I divined 

 that the animal was a Loupcervier, or, in 

 common parlance, a Lucevie — a species of 

 Lynx. 



Hastily drawing my hunting knife, as 1 

 expected every second that the big cat would 

 jump on me, I waited breathlessly for his 

 spring, but nothing more was heard. The 

 hours rolled slowly by and daylight appeared 

 and as "the sun with one eye vieweth all the 

 world," so I made a careful s-earch of the 

 ground to see if the tracks of such a blood- 

 thirsty creature were anywhere to be found. 



There were many tracks engraved in the 

 soft bottom that hereabouts prevailed, but 

 none that showed the sharp claws or the pad- 

 ded-like feet of a large cat. Neither did 

 the bark of the tree show any signs of a large 

 animal having climbed it. What, then, could 

 it have been? Careful investigation showed 

 that it was nothing else than a screech owl — 

 the owl that is *'not able to endure the sight 



