THE LYNX AT BAY 191 



back, and there, jusl ahead, crouched the Lynx. He 

 glared angrily, then ids* 1 up, and I Baw, with a little 

 shock, that he had been crouching on the body of 

 another Lynx, eating it. Photography was impossible 

 there, so I took a stick and poked at him; he growled, 

 struck at the stick, but went out, then dashed across 

 the open for the woods. As he went I got photograph 

 No. 1. Now I saw the incredible wonder I had heard 

 of — a good runner can outrun a Lynx. Preble was 

 a sprinter, and before the timber 200 yards off was 

 reached that Lynx was headed and turned; and Preble 

 and Billy were driving him back into my studio. He 

 made several dashes to escape, but was out-manoeuvred 

 and driven onto the far point, where he was really 

 between the devils and the deep sea. Here he faced 

 about at bay, growling furiously, thumping his little 

 bobtail from side to side, and pretending he was going 

 to spring on us. I took photo No. 2 at 25 yards. He 

 certainly did look very fierce, but I thought I knew the 

 creature, as well as the men who were backing me. I 

 retired, put a new film in place, and said: 



"Now, Preble, I'm going to walk up to that Lynx 

 and get a close photo. If he jumps for me, and he 

 may, there is nothing can save my beauty but you 

 and that gun." 



Preble with characteristic loquacity says, "Go 

 ahead." 



Then I stopped and began slowly approaching the 

 desperate creature we held at bay. I lis eves were 

 glaring green, his ears were back, his small bobtail 

 kept twitching from side to side, and his growls grew 



