Billy Took
The Right Shore, Preble The Left, I Kept The Middle.
Then we marched
toward the point but saw nothing.
There were no bushes except a low
thicket of spruce, some 20 feet across and 3 or 4 feet high. This
was too dense to penetrate standing, so I lay down on my breast
and proceeded to crawl in under the low boughs. I had not gone six
feet before a savage growl warned me back, and there, just ahead,
crouched the Lynx. He glared angrily, then rose up, and I saw, 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.
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