he right foreleg.

The way of the foolish is sometimes as hard as that of the transgressor.
For a few minutes he was the very maddest cat in all the Great
Tahquamenon Swamp, and he yelled and howled and caterwauled at the top
of his voice, and jumped and tore around as if he was crazy. But, of
course, that sort of thing did him no good, and after a while he quieted
down and took things a little more calmly. Instead of being made fast
to a tree, the trap was bound by a short chain to a heavy wooden clog,
and he found that by pulling with all his might he could drag it at a
snail's pace through the snow. So off he went on three legs, hauling the
trap and clog by the fourth, with the blood oozing out around the steel
jaws and leaving a line of bright crimson stains behind him. The strain
on his foot hurt him cruelly, but a great fear was in his heart, and he
knew that he must go away or die. So he pushed on, hour after hour,
stopping now and then to rest for a few minutes in a thicket of cedar or
hemlock, but soon gathering his strength for another effort. How he
growled and snarled with rage and pain, and how his great eyes flamed as
he looked ahead to see what was before him, or back along his trail to
know if the trapper was coming!

It was a terrible journey that he made that night, and the hours dragged
by slow as his pace and heavy as his clog. He was heading toward the
hollow tree by the Glimmerglass that he and his mate called home, but he
had not made more than half the distance, and his strength was nearly
gone. Half-way between midnight and dawn he reached the edge of a steep
and narrow gully that lay straight across his path. The moon had risen
some time before, and the white slopes gleamed and shone in the frosty
light, all the whiter by contrast with the few bushes and trees that
were scattered up and down the little valley. The lynx stood on the
brink and studied the proposition before him. It would be hard, hard
work to climb the farther side, dragging that heavy clog, but at least
it ought to be easy going down. He scrambled over the edge, hauling the
clog after him till it began to roll of its own accord. The chain
slackened, and he leaped forward. It was good to be able to jump again.
But he jumped too far, or tried to, and the chain tightened with a jerk
that brought him down head-first in the snow. Before he could recover
himself the clog shot past him, and the chain jerked again and sent him
heels ov