Did he do so? Not at all. He shook his fur, licked his chest
and paws in a self-congratulatory way, then giving a final tug at
the body, walked calmly over the snow along the shore.
Quonab put the back of his hand to his mouth and made a loud
squeaking, much like a rabbit caught in a snare. The lynx
stopped, wheeled, and came trotting straight toward the promising
music. Unsuspectingly he came within twenty yards of the
trappers. The flint-lock banged and the lynx was kicking in the
snow.
The beautiful silver fox skin was very little injured and proved
of value almost to double their catch so far; while the lynx skin
was as good as another marten.
They now had opportunity of studying the tracks and learned that
the fox had been hunting rabbits in a thicket when he was set on
by the lynx. At first he had run around in the bushes and saved
himself from serious injury, for the snow was partly packed by
the rabbits. After perhaps an hour of this, he had wearied and
sought to save himself by abandoning the lynx's territory, so had
struck across the open lake. But here the snow was too soft to
bear him at all, and the lynx could still skim over.
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