The Boy and the Lynx 
Once they seemed to sense their peril, but a 
long await dispelled the fear. Now they were 
almost in reach, and she trembled with all the 
eagerness of the hunting heart and the hungry 
maw. Her eye centred on a white one not 
quite the nearest, but the color seemed to hold 
her gaze. 
There was an open space around the rat- 
house ; outside that were tall weeds, and stumps 
were scattered everywhere. The white bird 
wandered behind these weeds, the red one of 
the loud voice flew to the top of the rat- 
mound and sang as before. The mother Lynx 
sank lower yet. It seemed an alarm note; but 
no, the white one still was there; she could see 
its feathers gleaming through the weeds. An 
open space now lay about. The huntress, 
flattened like an empty skin, trailed slow and 
silent on the ground behind a log no thicker 
than her neck; if she could reach that tuft of 
brush she could get unseen to the weeds and 
then would be near enough to spring. She 
could smell them now—the rich and potent 
smell of life, of flesh and blood, that set her 
limbs a-tingle and her eyes a-glow. 
178 
at ta ees Tere 
5 * a = EE (AS 
. ie bet. e= ms { ‘ 
Noa Fe OW \ \ > 
ae Ne EGE \\) . ’ 
‘“ <a 5 flags i) 
