of the center where the snare was fastened, and
by straining the great muscles of his legs, literally choked himself to
death.

More rabbits were added to the packs, and a short time later another
_cache_ was made. Connie wanted to set some more lynx snares, but they
had shot no rabbits, and it was impossible to skin the frozen ones they
had taken from the snares without wasting time in thawing them out.

"Let's use a whole one," suggested the boy. "We've got lots of 'em, and
a lynx is worth a rabbit, any time."

'Merican Joe objected. "We got plenty rabbit today--mebbe-so nex' tam we
ain' got none. It ain' no good we waste de rabbit. S'pose we leave de
rabbit for bait; de wolf an' de fox he com' long an' he too mooch smart
to git in de snare, but he git de rabbit jes' de sam'. Anyhow, we ain'
kin make de rabbit look lak he sittin' down w'en de hine legs is
stickin' down straight lak de sawbuck. Nex' tam we got plenty rabbit
skin for set de snare--de _loup cervier_ she run all winter, anyhow."

The next four lynx snares were undisturbed, but the sixth and last had
disappeared altogether.

"It held him for a while, though," said Connie, as he gazed in
disappointment at the snow which had been scratched and thrown in all
directions by the big cat.

The Indian laughed aloud at the evident disappointment that showed in
the boy's face.

"I don't see anything so funny about it!" frowned Connie.

"Dat mak' me laugh I see you sorry 'bout lose de _loup cervier_. You
rich. You got plenty money. An' when you lose wan _loup cervier_, you
look lak you los' de gol' mine."

"It isn't the value of the skin!" exclaimed the boy, quickly. "But when
I start to do a thing I like to do it. It don't make any difference what
it is, and it don't make any difference whether the stakes are high or
low. If it's worth doing, it's worth doing right. And if it's worth
starting, it's worth finishing."

'Merican Joe nodded: "I know. We go finish um _loup cervier_, now."

"What do you mean--finish him?" cried Connie, pointing to the tracks in
the snow that led from the scene of the brief struggle with the
snare--tracks that showed where the lynx had fled in powerful,
fifteen-foot leaps. "That don't look much like we'd finish that fellow,
does it? Believe me, he left here in a hurry! He's probably climbing the
North Pole right now!"

"I ain' know nuttin' 'bout no Nort' Poles. W'ere you t'ink de stick go
w'at we fix on de snare?"

Connie