192 THE ARCTIC PRAIRIES 



harder and hissier, as I neared him. At 15 feet he 

 gathered his legs under him as for a spring, and I 

 pressed the button getting, No. 3. 



Then did the demon of ambition enter into my 

 heart and lead me into peril. That Lynx at bay was 

 starving and desperate. He might spring at me, but 

 I believed that if he did he never would reach me alive. 

 I knew my man this nerved me and I said to him: 

 "I'm not satisfied; I want him to fill the finder. Are 

 you ready?" 



"Yep." 



So I crouched lower and came still nearer, and at 

 12 feet made No. 4. For some strange reason, now the 

 Lynx seemed less angry than he had been. 



"He didn't fill the finder; I'll try again," was my 

 next. Then on my knees I crawled up, watching the 

 finder till it was full of Lynx. I glanced at the beast; 

 he was but 8 feet away. I focused and fired. 



And now, oh, wonder! that Lynx no longer seemed 

 annoyed; he had ceased growling and simply looked 

 bored. 



Seeing it was over, Preble says, "Now where does 

 he go? To the Museum?" 



" No, indeed ! " was the reply. "He surely has earned 

 his keep; turn him loose. It's back to the woods for 

 him." We stood aside; he saw his chance and dashed 

 for the tall timber. As he went I fired the last film, 

 getting No. 6; and so far as I know that Lynx is alive 

 and well and going yet. 



