ind legs and holding up the trap in his mouth. See, there
he walk on two legs! See, there he rest!" And the old man began to
hurry on, closely followed by Frank, to whom he explained every movement
the fox had made.

"Must be a fine big fox to get away so far with the trap on both fore
feet," said Memotas. "But listen!"

A strange snarling-like sound fell on their ears, and with it something
like the fierce yelping of a fiery young dog. Memotas had quickly
dropped flat on the ground in the snow, and Frank crouched beside him.
The old man whispered to Frank to give him his long hunting knife.

"Some other animal, wild cat perhaps, meet fox, and they fighting. Keep
still, I must go back to the sled for the gun."

Without making the slightest noise the old man glided back, and was soon
lost to sight.

Fortunately, there was a dense clump of evergreen balsam or spruce trees
between the contending animals and Frank. Then they were so absorbed in
their own quarrel that they were not very alert in watching for others.
However, Frank knew enough to keep perfectly still, although he
confessed he clutched the knife several times more firmly as the blood-
curdling snarls of the wild cat pierced the air so near. Soon Memotas
was back again, and then the question was to get a successful shot at
the wild cat, as it was evident the fox was sure enough. At first
Memotas crawled forward closer to the trees, the branches of which,
laden down with snow, reached to the ground all around. Carefully
peering through the dense branches, he gazed intently for a time, and
then he silently beckoned Frank to come. Noiselessly he crawled up
beside Memotas, and after his eyes had become accustomed to the work he
was able to see the two animals not more than two hundred feet away.
The two fore legs of the fox were securely fastened in the steel trap,
which seemed to have closed on him about four inches up from his feet.
The wild cat was a fierce old male, and was doing his best to get a good
grip on the fox. This the fox was resolved not to let him have, and so
he kept his face toward his foe, and whenever the latter would spring at
him the fox would suddenly raise himself, and, throwing up the trap so
securely fastened on his fore legs, would bang it down with a whack on
the head of the wild cat. With a snarl the cat would suddenly back off
and arch up his back and snarl worse than ever. It was the queerest
battle that Memotas had