“I waited patiently and was soon rewarded for my pains, with a nervous chill. Our friend, the lynx, was howling gaily on the slope above me. With each howl the echo came nearer and nearer until it almost deafened me. Finally it ceased, and I could hear quite plainly in the stark silence that followed, a crackle of dry twigs and soft footfalls coming toward me.”
“Whew!” Brent exclaimed.
“I was cramped,” Tom went on. “My rigid position was beginning to get on my nerves. I was about to shift a little when I heard the soft whisper of a man’s voice right near me. Gosh what a scare!
“I felt I had been sitting there for days, when I heard the voice again, and looking down saw something pass under the tree and on down through the rocks in the direction of the camp.”
“What was it?” Brent asked.
“A terribly emaciated looking man. Just like a hermit you read about and have never seen. Long beard and hair; rags for clothes and barefoot. And with him—walking alongside like a pet dog—was the lynx! Absolutely!”
WALKING ALONG LIKE A PET DOG—WAS THE LYNX!
“Almost incredible!” I exclaimed.
“I knew you’d hardly believe it,” Tom protested. “But I saw it with my own eyes! And besides, I got down out of the tree after they were well out of sight and examined the ground with my flashlight. The footprints were there all right. Both man’s and beast’s.”