m the shelter of the branches. But no
sooner had he lain down, than the crunching of a footstep on the crisp
snow brought him to his feet again; and with every hair on end along his
back, his eyes ablaze with rage and fear, he turned to face the tall
figure of a backwoodsman, who stood gazing at him with a smile of
satisfaction from the other side of the glade.

Just about three hours earlier, on his way into the Cross Roads
Settlement, Pete Logan had set that trap with particular care, and with
the definite purpose of capturing that particular lynx. With all his
cunning, little did the great tuft-eared cat suspect that for weeks the
backwoodsman had been watching him, noting his haunts and trails,
observing his peculiarities, and laying plans for his capture. That very
evening, at the Cross Roads, Logan had boasted that single-handed he
would bring the big lynx into the Settlement, alive and undamaged. He
wanted the splendid animal to sell to an American who was collecting
wild beasts for menageries; and to avoid injuring the captive's fine
gray fur he had partly muffled the cruel teeth of the trap, that they
might take hold without tearing.

Having no dread of anything that inhabited the wilds, Logan had left his
rifle at home, and carried no weapon but the knife in his belt and his
light, straight-hafted axe. In the pack on his back, however, he brought
what he intended should serve him better than any weapon,--a thick
blanket, and a heavy canvas sack. Now, as he stood eying the frightened
and furious captive, he undid the pack and shook the big blanket loose.
The lynx glared with new terror at the ample folds. He had seen men
before, but he had never seen one shaking out a blanket, which looked to
him like a kind of gigantic and awful wings.

Logan had made his plans with careful foresight; and now it was with the
deliberation of absolute confidence that he went about the execution of
them. His axe gripped in readiness for any unforeseen piece of strategy
on the part of the foe, he advanced with the blanket outspread before
him like a shield. Back and back, to the limit of his bonds, cowered the
lynx, glaring defiance and inextinguishable hate. Slowly the man drew
near, till, just barely within reach of the beast's spring, he stopped.
For perhaps half a minute more neither man nor beast stirred a
muscle,--till the tension of the captive's nerves must have neared the
breaking-point. Then, as if his own nerves knew