“I tell you to swim this way!” added Loup, growing suspicious and angry.
Buster continued to head in the opposite direction.
“If you don’t come this way,” angrily cried Loup, “I’ll come after you, and hold your head under the water until you’re dead.”
Buster more frightened than ever paddled desperately, and he was really making pretty good time. He was beginning to learn how to swim. The opposite bank was growing nearer every moment. To his surprise he found that his strength was not leaving him, and he could keep his head up better than before. There was a chance of escaping the Lynx.
“You little brat!” shrieked Loup, dancing around in the shallow water. “I’ll teach you to trick me!”
Loup was an excellent swimmer, but he didn’t like the water. He hated to get his soft fur wet, for it took a long time to dry it in the sun. He never took a swim unless forced to it either to catch his victim or to save his life.
But this was one of those occasions when he had to swim or lose his prey. Buster was surely escaping him. In a few more minutes he would be on the opposite shore where he could hide in the bushes until his mother returned.
“All right!” added Loup finally, making up his mind. “I’m coming for you!”
These words didn’t frighten Buster nearly so much as the terrible splash he heard a moment later behind him. It seemed as if the river rose a foot, and that big waves were dashing against the bank. Loup had run up a tree leaning over the edge of the river, and launched himself from it. When his body struck the water it made a loud noise.
Buster made a frantic effort to increase his speed, but once when he glanced over his shoulder he nearly lost heart. Loup was swimming with great powerful strokes which brought him closer every second. He didn’t splash and flounder around in the water as the cub did, but, with all except his ugly head and long tail under the surface, he moved forward with the least amount of friction. Loup swam as steadily and easily as a boat propelled by a screw.