“Well, this is a pretty mess!” he declared, when George came up.
“Yes, but it’s lucky we got here when we did,” said George.
“Maybe not so lucky as we imagine. I’ve an idea there’s going to be considerable of a ‘rough-house’ before things become settled. Besides, there are plenty of lynxes in the woods, and perhaps it might have been better to have killed this one when he jumped from the crate.”
“But he doesn’t belong to us,” George reminded him, “and you know the trouble Bill took to capture him. I’m sure he wouldn’t thank us for shooting it in his absence.”
So far the lynx had remained passive, and the boys were at a loss to know just what it was doing. At last curiosity got the better of them, and Ed tiptoed to the window and peered in. With a startled yell he jumped away, stumbled, and fell in a heap. He had gazed directly into the snarling face of the lynx, which was crouched on the narrow window-sill.
Luckily, the animal was as much surprised and frightened as the boy, and instead of crashing through the glass it sprang away from it.
Then pandemonium broke loose, and by the noise that came from inside the boys knew the lynx was making sad havoc of the few furnishings. Pans clattered and clanged to the floor; the table went over with a bang; and in dismay they heard various pieces of crockery tumble from the shelves as the lynx leaped wildly about the little room. At one time he must have alighted on the hot stove, and he gave evidence of the fact by a scream of pain. Then he crashed against the door, and the boys threw their combined weight against it. Then he quieted down. Ed and George were anxious to see the damage he had done, but dared not peer through the window, lest they invite an attack.
It grew bitterly cold, and they were obliged to stamp their feet and swing their arms to keep their blood circulating. Several long hours dragged by, and the short winter day came to a close. Still they kept vigil on the outside of the cabin. Again and again the lynx stirred things up, and once their hearts almost stopped, when they heard him strike against the window. It was evidently a glancing blow, for it did not break the glass, and the lads breathed a sigh of relief.
“I wish Bill would show up,” said Ed, swinging his arms and blowing on his benumbed finger-tips.
“Say, suppose he doesn’t come until to-morrow; you know he said he sometimes stayed overnight at a lean-to.”