resolved itself into a fierce-looking creature, full four times the size
of an ordinary cat, which, instead of showing any fear at their approach,
bristled up its back and uttered a deep, angry snarl that spoke volumes
for its courage.

"Now, then, Frank," said Johnston, "take first shot, and see if you can
fetch the brute down."

Trembling with excitement, Frank threw up his rifle, did his best to
steady himself, took aim at the bewhiskered muzzle of the lynx, and
pulled the trigger. The sharp crack of the rifle was followed by an
ear-piercing shriek of mingled pain and rage, and the next instant the
wounded creature launched forth into the air toward the hunters. Frank's
nervousness, natural enough under the circumstances, had caused him to
miss his mark a little, and the bullet, instead of piercing the
"lucifee's" brain, had only stung him sorely in the shoulder.

But quick as was its movements, Johnston was still quicker, and the
moment its feet touched the snow, ere it could gather itself for another
spring, his rifle cracked and a bullet put an end to its career.

"Just as well you weren't by yourself, Frank; hey?" said he, with a smile
of satisfaction at the accuracy of his shot. "This chap would have been
an ugly customer at close quarters, and," turning the body over to find
where the first bullet had hit, "you see you hardly winged him."

Frank blushed furiously and looked very much ashamed of himself for not
being a better marksman; but the foreman cheered him up by assuring him
that he had really done very well in hitting the animal at all at that
distance.