on the wildest burned lands, where game is plenty and where
it is almost impossible to find him except by accident. In winter also
he roams alone for the most part; but occasionally, when rabbits are
scarce, as they are periodically in the northern woods, he gathers in
small bands for the purpose of pulling down big game that he would
never attack singly. Generally Upweekis is skulking and cowardly with
man; but when driven by hunger (as I found out once) or when hunting
in bands, he is a savage beast and must be followed cautiously.

I had heard much of the fierceness of these hunting bands from
settlers and hunters; and once a friend of mine, an old backwoodsman,
had a narrow escape from them. He had a dog, Grip, a big brindled cur,
of whose prowess in killing "varmints" he was always bragging, calling
him the best "lucififer" dog in all Canada. Lucififer, by the way, is
a local name for the lynx on the upper St. John, where Grip and his
master lived.

One day in winter the master missed a young heifer and went on his
trail, with Grip and his axe for companions. Presently he came to lynx
tracks, then to signs of a struggle, then plump upon six or seven of
the big cats snarling savagely over the body of the heifer. Grip, the
lucififer dog, rushed in blindly, and in two minutes was torn to
ribbons. Then the lynxes came creeping and snarling towards the man,
who backed away, shouting and swinging his axe. He killed one by a
lucky blow, as it sprang for his chest. The others drove him to his
own door; but he would never have reached it, so he told me, but for a
long strip of open land that he had cleared back into the woods. He
would face and charge the beasts, which seemed more afraid of his
voice than of the axe, then run desperately to keep them from circling
and getting between him and safety. When he reached the open strip
they followed a little way along the edges of the underbrush, but
returned one at a time when they were sure he had no further mind to
disturb their feast or their fighting.

It is curious that when Upweekis and his hunting pack pull down game
in this way the first thing they do is to fight over it. There may be
meat enough and to spare, but under their fearful hunger is the old
beastly instinct for each one to grab all for himself; so they fall
promptly to teeth and claws before the game is dead. The fightings at
such times are savage affairs, both to the eye and ear. One forgets
that Upweekis