Suddenly, above the yelps and howls of the maddened creature, there came another sound, a hail off in the woods.
“Ralph! oh, Ralph!”
“Here I am, fellows! This way! Come on quick!” shouted Ralph at the top of his voice.
Then as they grew closer, still shouting, he added a word of caution:
“Have your guns ready! I’m treed by a lynx!”
Through the trees the two boys burst into view. At the same instant the lynx dashed madly off toward the trail. As she dashed along she pawed her tingling eyes, trying in vain to rid them of the smarting fluid that Ralph’s lucky throw had filled them with.
Ralph slid to the ground and picking up his faithless rifle joined his chums in a wild chase after the animal. Yelling like Comanches they dashed after, making the uproar that had alarmed and startled the professor and Mountain Jim and their young companion. But it was not till they reached the trail, beyond the now tethered horses, that they came within shooting distance of it. Then Persimmons raised his rifle and fired.
As the shot echoed across the muskeg the lynx bounded into the air, turned a somersault, and just as the rest of the party rode up, lay twitching in death with Persimmons bending proudly over it.
“Larruping lynxes,” he was shouting, “I guess we’ve got at least one skin to take home!”