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. His eyes were glaring green, his ears were back,
his small bobtail kept twitching from side to side, and his growls
grew 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.
