d the sharp white teeth met in the lad's coat
collar, slightly grazing his neck.

Alf gave a cry of pain.

That was too much for Bob, who snatched his hunting-knife from its
sheath, and threw himself upon the enemy.

One plunge of the blade in the animal's side made it yell like a thing
possessed. Then Bob dug his thumbs into the lynx's neck and pressed his
fingers into its throat, pulling towards him with all his might, to drag
the animal from his friend.

The knife was still sticking in the wound, and as the lynx felt another
enemy above her, she momentarily turned her attention to the one above,
while she struck with her claws to deliver herself from the fingers that
were choking her.

That was Alf's chance. He plucked at the hunting-knife, and plunged it
into the wild animal with three rapid thrusts.

Then followed another scream more wild and blood-curdling than the rest.
It was a death-cry; for in a moment more Bob stood up, holding a limp
body by the neck.

Holden slowly rose from his bed of broken willows, and he grinned as he
regarded his clothes--especially the jacket, that hung from his left arm
like the evening dress of a Weary Willie.

"Rather the worse for wear and tear!" he remarked with comical
ruefulness.

"Which? The clothes or yourself?" questioned Bob, as he threw the lynx's
carcase to one side.

"I guess it's the clothes more than anything else. There's a lot of
blood about, but that's the lynx's more than mine."

In truth the lad was a strange spectacle, for hardly an inch of his
clothes had not been visited by claws or teeth. The boy himself was
covered with dust and dirt, while crimson patches of blood completed a
picture that was both humorous and pathetic.

Fortunately, both the boys were able to look at the matter from the
former point of view. Physical damage was not severe. There was a
scratch on Alf's shoulder. Arnold examined it carefully, but decided
that no danger was likely to follow, since the claws had passed through
the leather jacket before touching the flesh. As a precaution against
blood-poisoning, he insisted upon sucking the wound, after which he
bound it with a handkerchief.

"That will be all right, I expect," he said, as the operation was
completed. "I don't think we need worry about the other scratches."

"There would have been more--worse ones, probably--if you hadn't turned
up," said Alf. "I couldn't get at the beast any way. She seemed to have
claws lik