, and ran for camp. In a few minutes I was stealing back again
with my rifle; but Upweekis had felt the change in the situation and
was again among the shadows, where he belongs. I lost his trail in the
darkening woods.

There was another lynx which showed me, one day, a different side to
Upweekis' nature. It was in summer, when every creature in the
wilderness seems an altogether different creature from the one you
knew last winter, with new habits, new duties, new pleasures, and even
a new coat to hide him better from his enemies. Opposite my island
camp, where I halted a little while, in a summer's roving, was a
burned ridge; that is, it had been burned over years before; now it
was a perfect tangle, with many an open sunny spot, however, where
berries grew by handfuls. Rabbits swarmed there, and grouse were
plenty. As it was forty miles back from the settlements, it seemed a
perfect place for Upweekis to make a den in. And so it was. I have no
doubt there were a dozen litters of kittens on that two miles of
ridge; but the cover was so dense that nothing smaller than a deer
could be seen moving.

For two weeks I hunted the ridge whenever I was not fishing, stealing
in and out among the thickets, depending more upon ears than eyes, but
seeing nothing of Upweekis, save here and there a trampled fern, or a
blood-splashed leaf, with a bit of rabbit fur, or a great round cat
track, to tell the story. Once I came upon a bear and two cubs among
the berries; and once, when the wind was blowing down the hill, I
walked almost up to a bull caribou without seeing him. He was watching
my approach curiously, only his eyes, ears, and horns showing above
the tangle where he stood. Down in the coverts it was always intensely
still, with a stillness that I took good care not to break. So when
the great brute whirled with a snort and a tremendous crash of
bushes, almost under my nose, it raised my hair for a moment, not
knowing what the creature was, nor which way he was heading. But
though every day brought its experience, and its knowledge, and its
new wonder at the ways of wild things, I found no trace of the den,
nor of the kittens I had hoped to watch. All animals are silent near
their little ones, so there was never a cry by night or day to guide
me.

Late one afternoon, when I had climbed to the top of the ridge and was
on my way back to camp, I ran into an odor, the strong, disagreeable
odor that always hovers about the den