They saw that silver fox three or four times during the winter, and once
found that he had had the audacity to jump from a high snowdrift onto
the storehouse and thence to the cabin roof, where he had feasted on
some white rabbits kept there for deadfall baits. But all attempts to
trap or shoot him were vain, and their acquaintance might have ended as
it began, but for an accident.
It proved a winter of much snow. Heavy snow is the worst misfortune that
can befall the wood folk in fur. It hides their food beyond reach, and
it checks their movements so they can neither travel far in search of
provender nor run fast to escape their enemies. Deep snow then means
fetters, starvation, and death. There are two ways of meeting the
problem: stilts and snowshoes. The second is far the better. The
caribou, and the moose have stilts; the rabbit, the panther, and the
lynx wear snowshoes. When there are three or four feet of soft snow, the
lynx is king of all small beasts, and little in fear of the large ones.
Man on his snowshoes has most wild four-foots at his mercy.
Skookum, without either means of meeting the trouble was left much alone
in the shanty. Apparently, it was on one of these occasions that the
silver fox had driven him nearly frantic by eating rabbits on the roof
above him.
The exasperating robbery of their trap line had gone on irregularly all
winter, but the thief was clever enough or lucky enough to elude them.
They were returning to the cabin after a three days' round, when they
saw, far out on the white expanse of the lake, two animals, alternately
running and fighting. “Skookum and the fox,” was the first thought that
came, but on entering the cabin Skookum greeted them in person.
Quonab gazed intently at the two running specks and said: “One has no
tail. I think it is a peeshoo (lynx) and a fox.”
Rolf was making dinner. From time to time he glanced over the lake and
saw the two specks, usually running. After dinner was over, he said,
“Let's sneak 'round and see if we can get a shot.”
So, putting on their snowshoes and keeping out of sight, they skimmed
over the deer crossing and through the woods, till at a point near the
fighters, and there they saw something that recalled at once the day of
Skookum's humiliation.
A hundred yards away on the open snow was a huge lynx and their
old friend, the black and shining silver fox, face to face; the fox
desperate, showing his rows of beautiful teeth, but sinking belly deep
in the snow as he strove to escape. Already he was badly wounded. In
any case he was at the mercy of the lynx who, in spite of his greater
weight, had such broad and perfect snowshoes that he skimmed on the
surface, while the fox's small feet sank deep. The lynx was far from
fresh, and still stood in some awe of those rows of teeth that snapped
like traps when he came too near. He was minded, of course, to kill his
black rival, but not to be hurt in doing so. Again and again there was
in some sort a closing fight, the wearied fox plunging breathlessly
through the treacherous, relentless snow. If he could only get back to
cover, he might find a corner to protect his rear and have some fighting
chance for life. But wherever he turned that huge cat faced him, doubly
armed, and equipped as a fox can never be for the snow.
No one could watch that plucky fight without feeling his sympathies go
out to the beautiful silver fox. Rolf, at least, was for helping him to
escape, when the final onset came. In another dash for the woods the fox
plunged out of sight in a drift made soft by sedge sticking through, and
before he could recover, the lynx's jaws closed on the back of his neck
and the relentless claws had pierced his vitals.
The justification of killing is self-preservation, and in this case the
proof would have been the lynx making a meal of the fox. Did he do
so? Not at all. He shook his fur, licked his chest and paws in a
self-congratulatory way, then giving a final tug at the body, walked
calmly over the snow along the shore.
Quonab put the back of his hand to his mouth and made a loud squeaking,
much like a rabbit caught in a snare. The lynx stopped, wheeled, and
came trotting straight toward the promising music. Unsuspectingly he
came within twenty yards of the trappers. The flint-lock banged and the
lynx was kicking in the snow.
The beautiful silver fox skin was very little injured and proved of
value almost to double their catch so far; while the lynx skin was as
good as another marten.
They now had opportunity of studying the tracks and learned that the fox
had been hunting rabbits in a thicket when he was set on by the lynx.
At first he had run around in the bushes and saved himself from serious
injury, for the snow was partly packed by the rabbits. After perhaps an
hour of this, he had wearied and sought to save himself by abandoning
the lynx's territory, so had struck across the open lake. But here the
snow was too soft to bear him at all, and the lynx could still skim
over. So it proved a fatal error. He was strong and brave. He fought at
least another hour here before the much stronger, heavier lynx had
done him to death. There was no justification. It was a clear case of
tyrannical murder, but in this case vengeance was swift and justice came
sooner than its wont.