TREED BY A LYNX.
There was but one thing to do and Ralph did it. In the molecule of time
granted to him, he got on his feet. At the same time he uttered a yell
which had the intended effect of checking the second onslaught of the
lynx for an instant.
Of that instant Ralph took good advantage. He bounded at full speed
toward the nearest tree which looked as if it might sustain his weight.
Luckily, there was one not far off--a dead cedar. He managed to reach
it just ahead of the lynx and began scrambling into the low growing
branches. The rifle that had failed him in that critical moment, he
abandoned as useless; anyhow he could not have climbed, encumbered with
the heavy weapon.
“If I ever get out of this I’ll stick to the old-fashioned repeater,”
was his thought as he flung the weapon full at the head of the lynx,
missing her, in his agitation, by a good foot.
Under the circumstances, Ralph had done what he thought best in making
for the tree. In reality, though, had he had time for reflection, he
would better have taken his chances in a race toward his companions,
for of course a lynx can climb as well as any wild cat. In fact, Ralph
had hardly gained a second’s security before the creature flung herself
furiously against the foot of the tree and began climbing after the boy.
“She’s coming after me, sure as fate!” gasped Ralph desperately.
“Gracious, look at those claws! I’ve got to stop her in some way; but
I’d like to know how.”
By this time he had clambered some distance up the tree, an easy task,
for the branches grew fairly thick, and as the tree was dead there were
no leafy boughs to encumber his progress. But unfortunately, this made
it equally easy for his assailant to pursue him. Ralph saw that unless
he did something decisive pretty quickly, he would be driven to the
upper part of the tree where it would be unsafe for his weight.
Just above him, at this juncture, he spied a fairly heavy branch which,
it seemed, he might break off easily. Reaching above him, the boy gave
it a stout tug, and found that he had at least a good, thick club in
his possession.
The lynx was just below him. Ralph raised his luckily found weapon and
brought it down with a resounding crack on her skull.
With a howl of rage the creature dropped; but caught on a lower branch
and clinging there, glared up at him more menacingly than before. Far
from injuring her as the boy had hoped, the blow had only served to
infuriate the creature.
Suddenly, as if determined to bring the contest to a speedy
termination, the lynx began climbing again. Once more Ralph raised his
club and as the animal came within striking distance he brought it
down again with all his force.
“I hope I crack your ugly head,” he muttered vindictively as he struck.
But by bad luck, Ralph’s hopes were doomed to be blasted. He had struck
a good, hard blow and one that sent the lynx, snarling and spitting,
scurrying down the tree. But with such good will had he delivered the
blow that his club had broken in two. The best part of it went crashing
to the ground, leaving him with only a stump in his hand.
“If she comes back at me now, I’m done for,” thought Ralph, as he
looked downward.
But for the moment it appeared that the creature had no such intention.
Perhaps the two blows had stunned and confused her. At any rate she
lay on one of the lower boughs seemingly stupefied. As Ralph gingerly
prepared to descend, however, hoping to pass by the brute, she gave a
snarl and slipped with cat-like agility to the ground. There, at the
foot of the tree she lay, gazing upward with malicious eyes. Evidently
she had given up her first method of attack, but meant to lie there
like a sentinel and let Ralph make the next move.
“Gracious!” thought the boy as he saw this, “I am in a fine pickle. I
can’t fire any shots to attract the attention of the bunch and I guess
shouting won’t do much good. They may come to look for me, but they
won’t know in what direction to search.”
Nevertheless, Ralph inhaled a good, deep breath and shouted with all
his lung power. But no result was manifest, except that the lynx
growled and snarled and lashed its stumpy tail angrily. Once it set up
a dreary howl and the unpleasant thought occurred to Ralph that the
creature might be calling its mate.
“If two of them come at me--” he thought; but he didn’t dwell on that
thought.
Instead, he cut himself another club and then sitting back,
thought the situation over with all his might. As if in search of
an inspiration he began rummaging his pockets. How he wished he
had brought his revolver along, or even the ammonia “squirt-gun”
that he carried occasionally when traveling as a protection against
ugly-natured dogs. All at once, in an inside pocket, his hand
encountered a small bottle. Ralph almost uttered a cry of joy. A
sudden flash of inspiration had come to him. In the bottle was some
concentrated ammonia. He had filled his “squirt-gun” that morning
before placing it in the pack, and in the hurry of leaving the train at
Pine Pass had shoved the bottle into his pocket.
“It’s an awfully long chance,” he thought as he drew out the bottle,
“but, by Jove, I’ll try it. Desperate situations call for desperate
remedies, and this is sure a tough predicament that I’m in.”
His movements had attracted the attention of the lynx, and it reared
up on its hind legs and began clambering toward him once more. With
trembling fingers Ralph drew the cork of the bottle, and a pungent odor
filled the air. The reek of the ardent drug made the boy’s eyes water;
but he was glad the stuff was so strong. It suited his purpose all the
better.
What he had to do now was nerve-racking in the extreme. He did not dare
to try to put his plan into execution till the lynx got closer to him,
and to sit still and watch the ugly brute clambering toward him was
enough to upset the stoutest nature. Ralph waited till the animal was
on a branch directly below him and was glaring up at him as if making
up its mind for the final onslaught.
Then suddenly he cried out:
“Take that, you brute!”
With a swift, sure aim he doused the contents of the ammonia bottle
full in the face of the lynx. The effect was immediate and startling.
With a scream of rage and pain the blinded animal dropped, clawing and
scratching through the dead limbs, to the ground. Landing on all fours
she began clawing up the earth in a frenzy of pain. The sharp, pungent
ammonia was eating into her eyes like a red-hot flame.
Suddenly, above the yelps and howls of the maddened creature, there
came another sound, a hail off in the woods.
“Ralph! oh, Ralph!”
“Here I am, fellows! This way! Come on quick!” shouted Ralph at the top
of his voice.
Then as they grew closer, still shouting, he added a word of caution:
“Have your guns ready! I’m treed by a lynx!”
Through the trees the two boys burst into view. At the same instant the
lynx dashed madly off toward the trail. As she dashed along she pawed
her tingling eyes, trying in vain to rid them of the smarting fluid
that Ralph’s lucky throw had filled them with.
Ralph slid to the ground and picking up his faithless rifle joined
his chums in a wild chase after the animal. Yelling like Comanches
they dashed after, making the uproar that had alarmed and startled the
professor and Mountain Jim and their young companion. But it was not
till they reached the trail, beyond the now tethered horses, that they
came within shooting distance of it. Then Persimmons raised his rifle
and fired.
As the shot echoed across the muskeg the lynx bounded into the air,
turned a somersault, and just as the rest of the party rode up, lay
twitching in death with Persimmons bending proudly over it.
“Larruping lynxes,” he was shouting, “I guess we’ve got at least one
skin to take home!”