!" she cried, snatching up the wooden spoon and darting
for the door. "And they've got one of the sheep! Oh, oh, they're
tearing it!"

"Melindy!" shouted the old woman, in a voice of strident command--such
a compelling voice that the girl stopped short in spite of herself.
"Drop that fool spoon and get the gun!"

The girl dropped the spoon as if it had burned her fingers, and looked
irresolutely at the big duck-gun hanging on the log wall. "I can't
fire it!" she exclaimed, shaking her head. "I'd be scared to death of
it!"

But even as the words left her mouth, there came another outburst of
trampling and frantic clamour from the yard. She snatched up the
little, long-handled axe which leaned beside the door-post, threw the
door wide open, and with a pitying cry of "Oh! oh!" flew forth to the
rescue of her beloved sheep.

"Did you ever see the like of that?" muttered the old woman, her harsh
face working with excitement and high approbation. "Scairt to death of
a gun--and goes out to fight lynxes all by herself!"

And with painful effort she began hitching herself and the big chair
across the floor, seeking a position where she could both reach the
gun and command a view through the wide-open door.

When Melindy, her heart aflame with pity for the helpless ewes, rushed
out into the yard, she saw one woolly victim down, kicking silently on
the bloodstained snow, while a big lynx, crouched upon its body,
turned upon her a pair of pale eyes that blazed with fury at the
interruption to his feast.

The other sheep were foundered helplessly in the deep snow back of the
well--except one. This one, which had evidently been headed off from
the flock, and driven round to the near side of the watering-trough
before its savage enemy overtook it, was not half a dozen paces from
the cabin door. It was just stumbling forward upon its nose, with a
despairing _baa-a-a!_ while the second and larger lynx, clinging upon
its back, clutched hungrily for its throat through the thick,
protecting wool.

On ordinary occasions the girl was as timid as her small, pale face
and gentle blue eyes made her look. At this crisis, however, a sort of
fury of compassion swept all fear from her heart.

Like the swoop of some strange bird, her skirts streaming behind her,
she flung herself upon the great cat, and aimed a lightning blow at
his head with her axe. In her frail grip the axe turned, so that the
brute caught the flat of it instead of th