om
the ground, watching a big bait of fish which I had put in an open
spot for anything that might choose to come and get it. I was hoping
for a bear, and so climbed above the ground that he might not get my
scent should he come from leeward. It was early autumn, and my
intentions were wholly peaceable. I had no weapon of any kind.

Late in the afternoon something took to chasing a red squirrel near
me. I heard them scurrying through the trees, but could see nothing.
The chase passed out of hearing, and I had almost forgotten it, for
something was moving in the underbrush near my bait, when back it came
with a rush. The squirrel, half dead with fright, leaped from a
spruce-tip to the ground, jumped onto the tree in which I sat, and
raced up the incline, almost to my feet, where he sprang to a branch
and sat chattering hysterically between two fears. After him came a
pine marten, following swiftly, catching the scent of his game, not
from the bark or the ground, but apparently from the air. Scarcely had
he jumped upon my tree when there was a screech and a rush in the
underbrush just below him, and out of the bushes came a young lynx to
join in the chase. He missed the marten on the ground, but sprang to
my tree like a flash. I remember still that the only sound I was
conscious of at the time was the ripping of his nails in the dead
bark. He had been seeking my bait undoubtedly--for it was a good lynx
country, and Upweekis loves fish like a cat--when the chase passed
under his nose and he joined it on the instant.

Halfway up the incline the marten smelled me, or was terrified by the
noise behind him and leaped aside. A branch upon which I was leaning
swayed or snapped, and the lucivee stopped as if struck, crouching
lower and lower against the tree, his big yellow expressionless eyes
glaring straight into mine. A moment only he stood the steady look;
then his eyes wavered; he turned his head, leaped for the underbrush,
and was gone.

Another moment and Meeko the squirrel had forgotten his fright and
peril and everything else save his curiosity to find out who I was and
all about me. He had to pass quite close to me to get to another tree,
but anything was better than going back where the marten might be
waiting; so he was presently over my head, snickering and barking to
make me move, and scolding me soundly for disturbing the peace of the
woods. In summer Upweekis is a solitary creature, rearing his young
away back