The Boy and the Lynx 
miles north of the shanty. He had passed the 
glade where the great basswood lay when a 
creature like a big bob-tailed Kitten appeared 
and looked innocently at him. His gun went 
up, as usual, but the Kitten merely cocked its 
head on one side and fearlessly surveyed him. 
Then a second one that he had not noticed be- 
fore began to play with the first, pawing at its 
tail and inviting its brother to tussle. 
Thor’s first thought to shoot was stayed as he 
watched their gambols, but the remembrance of 
his feud with their race came back. He had 
almost raised the gun when a fierce rumble 
close at hand gave bim a start, and there, not 
ten feet from him, stood the old one, looking 
big and fierce as a Tigress. It was surely folly 
to shoot at the young ones now. The boy 
nervously dropped some buckshot on the charge 
while the snarling growl rose and fell, but be- 
fore he was ready to shoot at her the old one 
had picked up something that was by her feet; 
the boy got a glimpse of rich brown with white 
spots—the limp form of a newly killed Fawn. 
Then she passed out of sight. The Kittens fol- 
lowed, and he saw her no more until the time 
187 
