a little quaveringly; "I hardly
spilled a drop."

The old woodsman took the vessel without a word. Then he looked down at
the cat.

"Just as well for you," he said, "that it wasn't a true lynx. But how
did she get at your leg? Did you walk on her, or kick her, just for
fun?"

Wilbur, laughing a little nervously from the reaction of the excitement,
described how it was that the wild-cat had landed on his leg instead of
on his neck, and the old hunter nodded.

"It's a mighty lucky thing for you," he said, "that stick was there,
because there's a heap o' places around the neck where a clawin' ain't
healthy. But these scratches of yours won't take long to heal. Where you
were a fool," he continued, "was in touchin' the rabbit at all. It's
just as I told you. When you went quietly forward, you say, the bob-cat
got out of your road all right. Of course, that's what she ought to do.
And if you had filled the pot with water an' come away that's all
there'd have been to it. But jest as soon as you begin ter get mixed up
in the prey any varmint's killed, you've got ter begin considerin' the
chances o' joinin' the select company o' victims."

"But I wanted her out of the way for next time," said Wilbur.

"She'd have got out of your way so quick you couldn't see her go," said
the hunter, "if you'd given her a chance. Next time, leave a varmint's
dinner alone."

"Next time, I will," the boy declared.

"I guess now," continued the old hunter, "you'd better come back to camp
an' we'll see what we c'n do to improve them delicate attentions you've
received. An' don't be quite the same kind of an idiot again."

"Well," said Wilbur, "I got the water from the spring, anyhow."

[Illustration: PATROLLING A COYOTE FENCE.

The old Ranger and his hound safeguarding the grazing interests of the
forest.

_Photograph by U. S. Forest Service._]

[Illustration: REDUCING THE WOLF SUPPLY.]

[Illustration: REDUCING THE WOLF SUPPLY.

Sport that is worth while, freeing the National Forests from beasts of
prey.

_Photographs by U. S. Forest Service._]

CHAPTER VI

IN THE HEART OF THE FOREST

Towards noon the next day, Wilbur and the Ranger rode up to the shack in
the woods which Rifle-Eye considered as one of his headquarters. As soon
as they reached the clearing they were met by a big, shambling youth,
whose general appearance and hesitating air proclaimed him to be the
half-witted lad of whom Wilbur had heard. He