Again it came and again. I suddenly felt terribly chilled. Rivers got up stealthily and in a whispered voice told us that he’d go out and keep under cover of darkness and for us to sit quiet and wait.
Above the whistling of the howling gales, the cry of the animal sounded nearer and nearer. We were rigid. Not a sound came from the darkness outside by the cleft, but we knew Charlie Rivers was watching—and waiting.
It must have been near midnight, I thought.
I was sorry I had come. I wondered if Brent was? And Tom? Why should that animal be killed? He wasn’t hurting anyone by howling at night. I would have gotten up and spoken my mind, if I had thought Rivers wouldn’t have laughed at me.
Then the cries ceased. But the fire hissed and seemed to make a terrific noise, just when I wanted to concentrate my whole mind on listening. Brent made a funny gurgling sound in his throat. What made him do that, I wondered. Tom glared at him.
A hush had fallen over the whole place. For at least five minutes I hadn’t heard a sound or a move anywhere. But I felt a presence of something. Without twitching a muscle, Tom, Brent and I looked first at each other then out into the darkness.
Two eyes like glittering bits of steel, peered intently at us. The rest of the body was enveloped in the night, like a shroud.
It moved slightly, pawing the ground and then settling back on its hind paws. Although the silence was deadly, the animal suddenly swung around. I knew it must be Rivers!
It was too late when I saw it! Rivers’ gun was on the ground near the tree where he had been sitting. How he had forgotten it, I don’t know. But it was too late for him to get it.
The animal stood halfway between Rivers and ourselves. Tom’s hand made a move toward his back pocket, but Charlie had rushed for the lynx!