“Gee whiz, I never thought of that!” cried Ed, in alarm. “We can’t spend the night out here without freezing, and we can’t go inside without killing the lynx! We’re in a bad fix anyway you look at it.”
As darkness gradually settled over the silent white forest the hearts of the boys became heavy. With the fading of daylight the imprisoned lynx became more active, and once more wild riot raged within the dark room. The temperature dropped steadily, and the shivering young guards were at a loss to know what to do. Even if they decided to take possession of the cabin by killing its dangerous occupant, their chances of doing so were now poor.
“We’ve got to do something—I’m actually freezing to death; and, besides, it seems ridiculous to be turned out of our own home by a great big bully of a cat,” said Ed, through chattering teeth.
“It is pretty tough; but what are we going to do?” asked George. “We haven’t even a lantern, and it’s no place in there to go poking around with a flickering little match.”
Just then they heard the crunch of footsteps on the dry snow, and a moment later Bill stood beside them, a big bundle of furs strapped to his back.
“What’s the matter?” he inquired, anxiously. “I missed the light, and was afraid something must be wrong. Thought maybe you were lost again. Come in. What on earth are you shivering out here for?” And he started to open the door.
“Wait!” cried Ed, excitedly grasping him by the arm.
“Hold on!” warned George, barring his way.
“What in blazes—” began the bewildered trapper; but the boys interrupted him with a hurried recital of facts.
A council of war was immediately held, and Bill was forced to admit that things looked bad. He said he had little hope of retaking the lynx alive, and he seemed much cast down at the idea of killing it.