narrow pupils grew still narrower, and their paws fumbled about
among the dry pine-needles, feeling for the very best footing for the
flying leap. The ducks came on, still prattling pleasantly over their
own private affairs. Closer and closer they swam, without a thought of
death waiting for them at the top of the bank, and suddenly four
splendid sets of muscles jerked like bowstrings, four long hind-legs
straightened with a mighty thrust and shove, and two big gray creatures
shot out from the brink and came sailing down through the air with their
heads up, their tails on end, their eyes blazing, and their forepaws
stretched out to grab the nearest unhappy duck. The flock broke up with
frightened cries and a wonderful whirring of wings, and in a moment
more they were far away and going like the very wind.

[Illustration: "_They both stood still and looked at each other._"]

But two of its members stayed behind, and presently the lynxes waded out
on the beach and sat down to eat their supper together. They talked as
much over that meal as the ducks had over theirs, but the lynx language
is very different from that of the water-fowl. Instead of soft, gentle
murmurings there were low growls and snarls as the long, white claws and
teeth tore the warm red flesh from the bones. It could hardly have been
a pleasant conversation to anyone but themselves, but I suppose they
enjoyed it as much as the choicest repartee. In truth they had good
reason to be satisfied and contented with themselves and each other, and
with what they had just done, for not every flying leap is so
successful, and not every duck is as plump and juicy as the two that
they were discussing. So they talked on in angry, threatening tones,
that sounded like quarrelling, but that really meant only a fierce,
savage kind of pleasure; and when the meal was ended, and the very last
shred of duck-flesh had disappeared, they washed their faces, and
purred, and lay still a while to visit and get acquainted.

There were many other meetings during the weeks that followed--some
under as pleasant circumstances as the first, and some not. Perhaps the
best were those of the clear, sharp days of early winter, when the sky
was blue, and the sunshine was bright, and a thin carpet of fine, dry
snow covered the floor of the forest. It was cold, of course; but they
were young and strong and healthy, and their fur was thick and warm,
like the garments of a Canadian girl. The kee