he forest, Sonny's solicitude became more personal. He
knew that the forest was a place of many strange perils. It was no
place for the Kid. A sudden fear seized him at thought of what might
happen to the Kid, there in the great and silent shadows. He broke
into a frantic run, scrambled through the fence, picked up the little
adventurer's trail, and darted onward till he caught sight of the
Kid's bright curly head, apparently intent on gazing into a thicket.
At the sight he stopped abruptly, then sauntered forward with a
careless air, as if it was the most ordinary chance in the world that
he should come across the Kid, away off here alone.

Instinctively, under the subtle influence of the forest silence, Sonny
went forward softly, on his toes, though anything like stealth was
altogether foreign to him. As he crept up, he wondered what it was in
the thicket to keep him so still. There was something mysterious about
it. The hair began to rise along Sonny's back. Then, a moment later,
he heard the Kid crying. There was no mistaking the note of terror in
that hopeless, helpless little sound. Sonny did not need to reason
about it; his heart understood all that was necessary. Something was
frightening the Kid. His white teeth bared themselves, and he darted
forward.

At this instant there came a crackling and swishing in the thicket;
and the Kid, as if released from a spell, turned with a scream and
started to flee. He tripped on a root, however, and fell headlong on
his face, his yellow curls mixing with the brown twigs and fir
needles. Almost in the selfsame second a big gray lynx burst from the
green of the underbrush and sprang upon the little, sprawling,
helpless form.

But not actually upon it. Those outstretching, murderous claws never
actually sank into the Kid's flesh. For Sonny was there just as soon
as the lynx was. The wild beast changed its mind, and attack, just in
time to avoid being taken at a serious disadvantage. The rush of
Sonny's heavy body bore it backward clear of the Kid. The latter
scrambled to his feet, stifled his sobs, and stared open-mouthed at
the sudden fury of battle which confronted him.

Had Sonny not been endowed with intelligence as well as valour, he
would have fallen victim almost at once to his adversary's terrific,
raking hind claws. But fortunately, during his pugnacious puppyhood he
had had several encounters with war-wise, veteran cats. To him, the
lynx was obviously a huge and