434 BIG GAME OF NORTH AMERICA. 



into the bushes. After the trouble was all over, she calmed 

 down into the same old serene and complacent, jjurring 

 pussy, showing no malice — in fact, seeming to forget all 

 about the matter. 



Her mother is the property of Mr. Perry, the renowned 

 sportsman, and my esteemed friend and hunting comjianion, 

 or "Sillalicum," as we say here in the Northwest. The 

 mother has a short, thick tail, not over three inches long, 

 and she is similar to all other house-cats in disj^osition and 

 looks, but is much stronger — in fact, she is a great lighter, 

 and thrashes everything in the cat or dog line in the neigh- 

 borhood. She is a wonderful ratter, and is withal very shy. 

 She will make friends with no one but her master. Some of 

 her kittens have the regular short tail of the Lynx, while 

 others have a longer one; but none have as long a tail as the 

 common house-cat. Their heads also have a wilder and 

 coarser look. They are all gray, with stripes on the body 

 and limbs; black-tipped and black-ringed tails. In size they 

 are a little larger than the ordinary domestic puss. 



Mary Perry, unlike most ladies, was not in the least 

 timid. Refined, educated, a popular writer, she was, like 

 her brother, a good hunter, and loved the gun. She was 

 afraid of no animal that ever skulked in an American forest. 

 She knew the habits of all the game in the neighborhood — 

 knew where to find a covey of grouse, a flock of mallards, 

 a herd of Deer, a Cultus Bear, or a Cougar; and knew how 

 to kill them, too. 



While walking with her mother one day, on a visit to a 

 neighbor, her hound. Prince, put a Lynx into a tree some 

 distance from the trail. Hastening in to w^here the dog 

 stood barking, and bidding her mother stay and watch the 

 dog and Lynx, she hastened back to the house, got her 

 light, twelve-gauge gun, and hurried back into the woods 

 where her mother and the hound were on guard. Lying on 

 a limb, blinking, snarling, and spitting at the dog, was the 

 ugly creature. Raising her gun to her face, Mary took a 

 steady aim and pressed the trigger. The gun flashed, the 



