"Then Mrs. Murdoch's wrath found words, and she let it flow forth while the man listened as indifferently as if it had been the whistling of the wind. At last she stopped.
"'Anything more to say, ma'am?' he asked politely.
"Mrs. Murdoch snorted a negative.
"'Then all I hev to say,' he went on, 'is that to my mind mothers has rights. That there b'ar's a mother, an' she's got feelin's, like you, an' she's come after her young un, like you—an' I wasn't a-goin' to see her robbed of him.'"
CHAPTER XIII
THE LITTLE SLY ONE
From away up near the top of the rocky hill that rose abruptly across the inlet came a terrible screech, piercing and startling.
"Gee!" said the Babe, slipping closer to Uncle Andy, where they sat together on a log by the water. "I'm glad that's away over there! What is it, Uncle Andy?"
"Lynx!" replied Uncle Andy, puffing at his pipe.
"What did he go and do that for?"