animal heroes-第16节

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reached　the　turn　that　led　to　Dumont's　place；　and　a　deep…toned
rolling　howl　came　from　the　river　flat　below；　followed　by　a　number
of　higher…pitched　howls　in　answering　chorus。　We　could　see
nothing；　but　we　listened　hard。　The　song　was　repeated；　the
hunting…cry　of　the　Wolves。　It　faded；　the　night　was　stirred　by
another；　the　sharp　bark　and　the　short　howl；　the　signal　〃close
in〃；　a　bellow　came　up；　very　short；　for　it　was　cut　short。

And　King　as　he　touched　his　Horse　said　grimly：　〃That's　him；　he　is
out　with　the　pack；　an'　thar　goes　another　Beef。〃



THE　BOY　AND　THE　LYNX

I

THE　BOY

He　was　barely　fifteen；　a　lover　of　sport　and　uncommonly　keen；　even
for　a　beginner。　Flocks　of　Wild　Pigeons　had　been　coming　all　day
across　the　blue　Lake　of　Cayggeonull；　and　perching　in　line　on　the
dead　limbs　of　the　great　rampikes　that　stood　as　monuments　of　fire；
around　the　little　clearing　in　the　forest；　they　afforded　tempting
marks；　but　he　followed　them　for　hours　in　vain。　They　seemed　to
know　the　exact　range　of　the　old…fashioned　shotgun　and　rose　on
noisy　wings　each　time　before　he　was　near　enough　to　fire。　At
length　a　small　flock　scattered　among　the　low　green　trees　that
grew　about　the　spring；　near　the　log　shanty；　and　taking　advantage
of　the　cover；　Thorburn　went　in　gently。　He　caught　sight　of　a
single　Pigeon　close　to　him；　took　a　long　aim　and　fired。　A　sharp
crack　resounded　at　almost　the　same　time　and　the　bird　fell　dead。
Thorburn　rushed　to　seize　the　prize　just　as　a　tall　young　man
stepped　into　view　and　picked　it　up。

〃Hello；　Corney！　you　got　my　bird！〃

〃Your　burrud！　Sure　yours　flew　away　thayre。　I　saw　them　settle
hayer　and　thought　I'd　make　sure　of　wan　with　the　rifle。〃

A　careful　examination　showed　that　a　rifle…ball　as　well　as　a
charge　of　shot　had　struck　the　Pigeon。　The　gunners　had　fired　on
the　same　bird。　Both　enjoyed　the　joke；　though　it　had　its　serious
side；　for　food　as　well　as　ammunition　was　scarce　in　that　backwoods
home。

Corney；　a　superb　specimen　of　a　six…foot　Irish…Canadian　in　early
manhood；　now　led　away　to　the　log　shanty　where　the　very　scarcity
of　luxuries　and　the　roughness　of　their　lives　were　sources　of
merriment。　For　the　Colts；　though　born　and　bred　in　the　backwoods
of　Canada；　had　lost　nothing　of　the　spirit　that　makes　the　Irish
blood　a　world…wide　synonym　of　heartiness　and　wit。　

Corney　was　the　eldest　son　of　a　large　family。　The　old　folks　lived
at　Petersay；　twenty…five　miles　to　the　southward。　He　had　taken　up
a　〃claim〃　to　carve　his　own　home　out　of　the　woods　at　Fenebonk；　and
his　grown　sisters；　Margat；　staid　and　reliable；　and　Loo；　bright
and　witty；　were　keeping　house　for　him。　Thorburn　Alder　was
visiting　them。　He　had　just　recovered　from　a　severe　illness　and
had　been　sent　to　rough　it　in　the　woods　in　hope　of　winning　some　of
the　vigor　of　his　hosts。　Their　home　was　of　unhewn　logs；　unfloored；
and　roofed　with　sods；　which　bore　a　luxuriant　crop　of　grass　and
weeds。　The　primitive　woods　around　were　broken　in　two　places：　one
where　the　roughest　of　roads　led　southward　to　Petersay；　the　other
where　the　sparkling　lake　rolled　on　a　pebbly　shore　and　gave　a
glimpse　of　their　nearest　neighbor's　house　four　miles　across　the
water。

Their　daily　round　had　little　change。　Corney　was　up　at　daybreak　to
light　the　fire；　call　his　sisters；　and　feed　the　horses　while　they
prepared　breakfast。　At　six　the　meal　was　over　and　Corney　went　to
his　work。　At　noon；　which　Margat　knew　by　the　shadow　of　a　certain
rampike　falling　on　the　spring；　a　clear　notification　to　draw　fresh
water　for　the　table；　Loo　would　hang　a　white　rag　on　a　pole；　and
Corney；　seeing　the　signal；　would　return　from　summer　fallow　or
hayfield；　grimy；　swarthy；　and　ruddy；　a　picture　of　manly　vigor　and
honest　toil。　Thor　might　be　away　all　day；　but　at　night；　when　they
again　assembled　at　the　table；　he　would　come　from　lake　or　distant
ridge　and　eat　a　supper　like　the　dinner　and　breakfast；　for　meals
as　well　as　days　were　exact　repeats：　pork；　bread；　potatoes；　and
tea；　with　occasionally　eggs　supplied　by　a　dozen　hens　around　the
little　log　stable；　with；　rarely；　a　variation　of　wild　meat；　for
Thor　was　not　a　hunter　and　Corney　had　little　time　for　anything　but
the　farm。


II

THE　LYNX

A　huge　four…foot　basswood　had　gone　the　way　of　all　trees。　Death
had　been　generoushad　sent　the　three　warnings：　it　was　the
biggest　of　its　kind；　its　children　were　grown　up；　it　was　hollow。
The　wintry　blast　that　sent　it　down　had　broken　it　across　and
revealed　a　great　hole　where　should　have　been　its　heart。　A　long
wooden　cavern　in　the　middle　of　a　sunny　opening；　it　now　lay；　and
presented　an　ideal　home　for　a　Lynx　when　she　sought　a　sheltered
nesting…place　for　her　coming　brood。

Old　was　she　and　gaunt；　for　this　was　a　year　of　hard　times　for　the
Lynxes。　A　Rabbit　plague　the　autumn　before　had　swept　away　their
main　support；　a　winter　of　deep　snow　and　sudden　crusts　had　killed
off　nearly　all　the　Partridges；　a　long　wet　spring　had　destroyed
the　few　growing　coveys　and　had　kept　the　ponds　and　streams　so　full
that　Fish　and　Frogs　were　safe　from　their　armed　paws；　and　this
mother　Lynx　fared　no　better　than　her　kind。

The　little　oneshalf　starved　before　they　camewere　a　double
drain；　for　they　took　the　time　she　might　have　spent　in　hunting。

The　Northern　Hare　is　the　favorite　food　of　the　Lynx；　and　in　some
years　she　could　have　killed　fifty　in　one　day；　but　never　one　did
she　see　this　season。　The　plague　had　done　its　work　too　well。

One　day　she　caught　a　Red…squirrel　which　had　run　into　a　hollow　log
that　proved　a　trap。　Another　day　a　fetid　Blacksnake　was　her　only
food。　A　day　was　missed；　and　the　little　ones　whined　piteously　for
their　natural　food　and　failing　drink。　One　day　she　saw　a　large
black　animal　of　unpleasant　but　familiar　smell。　Swiftly　and
silently　she　sprang　to　make　attack。　She　struck　it　once　on　the
nose；　but　the　Porcupine　doubled　his　head　under；　his　tail　flew　up；
and　the　mother　Lynx　was　speared　in　a　dozen　places　with　the　little
stinging　javelins。　She　drew　them　all　with　her　teeth；　for　she　had
〃learned　Porcupine〃　years　before；　and　only　the　hard　push　of　want
would　have　made　her　strike　one　now。

A　Frog　was　all　she　caught　that　day。　On　the　next；　as　she　ranged
the　farthest　woods　in　a　long；　hard　hunt；　she　heard　a　singular
calling　voice。　It　was　new　to　her。　She　approached　it　cautiously；
up　wind；　got　many　new　odors　and　some　more　strange　sounds　in
coming。　The　loud；　clear；　rolling　call　was　repeated　as　the　mother
Lynx　came　to　an　opening　in　the　forest。　In　the　middle　of　it　were
two　enormous　muskrat　or　beaver…houses；　far　bigger　than　the
biggest　she　ever　before　had　seen。　They　were　made　partly　of　logs
and　situated；　not　in　a　pond；　but　on　a　dry　knoll。　Walking　about
them　were　a　number　of　Partridges；　that　is；　birds　like　Partridges；
only　larger　and　of　various　colors；　red；　yellow；　and　white。

She　quivered　with　the　excitement　that　in　a　man　would　have　been
called　buck…fever。　Foodfoodabundance　of　food；　and　the　old
huntress　sank　to　earth。　Her　breast　was　on　the　ground；　her　elbows
above　her　back；　as　she　made　stalk；　her　shrewdest；　subtlest　stalk；
one　of　those　Partridges　she　must　have　at　any　price；　no　trick　now
must　go　untried；　no　error　in　this　hunt；　if　it　took　hoursall　day
she　must　approach　with　certainty　to　win　before　the　quarry　took
to　flight。

Only　a　few　bounds　it　was　from　wood　shelter　to　the　great
rat…house；　but　she　was　an　hour　in　crawling　that　small　space。　From
stump　to　brush；　from　log　to　bunch　of　grass　she　sneaked；　a
flattened　form；　and　the　Partridges　saw　her　not。　They　fed　about；
the　biggest　uttering　the　ringing　call　that　first　had　fallen　on
her　ear。

Once　they　seemed　to　sense　their　peril；　but　a　long　await　dispelled
the　fear。　Now　they　were　almost　in　reach；　and　she　trembled　with
all　the　eagerness　of　the　hunting　heart　and　the　hungry　maw。　Her
eye　centred　on　a　white　one　not　quite　the　nearest；　but　the　color
seemed　to　hold　her　gaze。

There　was　an　open　space　around　the　rat…house；　outside　that　were
tall　weeds；　and　stumps　were　scattered　everywhere。　The　white　bird
wandered　behind　these　weeds；　the　red　one　of　the　loud　voice　flew
to　the　top　of　the　rat…mound　and　sang　as　before。　The　mother　Lynx
sank　lower　yet。　It　seemed　an　alarm　note；　but　no；　the　white　one
still　was　there；　she　could　see　its　feathers　gleaming　through　the
weeds。　An　open　space　now　lay　about。　The　huntress；　flattened　like
an　empty　skin；　trailed　slow　and　silent　on　the　ground　behind　a　log
no　thicker　than　her　neck；　if　she　could　reach　that　tuft　of　brush
she　could　get　unseen　to　the　weeds　and　then　would　be　near　enough
to　spring。　She　could　smell　them　nowthe　rich　and　potent　smell　of
life；　of　flesh　and　blood；　that　set　her　limbs　a…tingle　and　her
eyes　a…glow。

The　Partridges　still　scratched　and　fed；　another　flew　to　the　high
top；　but　the　white　one　remained。　Five　more　slow…gliding；　silent
steps；　and　the　Lynx　was　behind　the　weeds；　the　white　bird　shining
through；　she　gauged　the　distance；　tried　the　footing；　swung　her
hind　legs　to　clear　some　fallen　brush；　then　leaped　direct　with　all
her　force；　and　the　white　one　never　knew　the　death　it　died；　for
the　fateful　gray　shadow　dropped；　the　swift　and　deadly　did　their
work；　and　before　the　other　birds　could　realize　the　foe　or　fly；
the　Lynx　was　gone；　with　the　white　bird　squirming　in　her　jaws。

Uttering　an　unnecessary　growl　of