TaN 
The Boy and the Lynx 
enough to fire. At length a small flock scat- 
tered among the low green trees that grew 
about the spring, near the log shanty, and 
taking advantage of the cover, Thorburn went 
in gently. He caught sight of a single Pigeon 
close to him, took a long aim and fired. A 
sharp crack resounded at almost the same time 
and the bird fell dead. Thorburn rushed to 
seize the prize just as a tall young man stepped 
into view and picked it up. 
“Hello, Corney! you got my bird!” 
“Your burrud! Sure yours flew away thayre. 
I saw them settle hayer and thought I’d make 
sure of wan with the rifle.” 
A careful examination showed that a rifle- 
ball as well as a charge of shot had struck the 
Pigeon. The gunners had fired on the same 
bird. Both enjoyed the joke, though it had its 
serious side, for food as well as ammunition 
was scarce in that backwoods home. 
Corney, a superb specimen of a six-foot 
Irish-Canadian in early manhood, now led 
away to the log shanty where the very scarcity 
of luxuries and the roughness of their lives were 
sources of merriment. For the Colts, though 
170 
