The Boy and the Lynx 
some hundred yards from the shanty. On 
sunny mornings it used to lie basking on the 
stump, but eternal vigilance is the price of 
every good thing in the woods. The Wood- 
chuck was always alert and Thor tried in vain 
to shoot or even to trap him. 
“Hyar,’”’ said Corney one morning, “ time 
we had some fresh meat.” He took down his 
rifle, an old-fashioned brass-mounted small-bore, 
and loading with care that showed the true 
rifleman, he steadied the weapon against the 
door-jamb and fired. The Woodchuck fell 
backward and lay still. Thor raced to the 
place and returned in triumph with the animal, 
shouting: ‘‘ Plumb through the head—one hun- 
dred and twenty yards.” 
Corney controlled the gratified smile that 
wrestled with the corners of his mouth, but his 
bright eyes shone a trifle brighter for the mo- 
ment. 
It was no mere killing for killing’s sake, for 
the Woodchuck was spreading a belt of destruc- 
tion in the crop around his den. Its flesh 
supplied the family with more than one good 
meal and Corney showed Thor how to use the 
181 
