Of how long he slept Rod had no idea. He was suddenly brought back
into wakefulness by a sound that startled him to the marrow of his
bones, a terrible scream close to his ears. He sat bolt upright,
quaking in every limb. For a moment he tried to cry out, but his
tongue clove to the roof of his mouth. What had happened? Was it Wabi,
or Mukoki?

A dozen paces away was a huge rock and as he looked he saw something
move upon it, a long, lithe object that shone a silvery white in the
moonlight, and he knew that it was a lynx. Stealthily Rod reached for
his rifle, which had slipped between his knees, and as he did so the
lynx sent forth another of its blood-curdling screams. Even now the
white youth shivered at the sound, so much like the terrible cry of
some person in dying agony. He leveled his gun. There was a flash in
the moonlight, a sharp report, and a shout from the direction of the
camp. In another moment Rod was upon his feet, and sorry that he had
shot. It flashed upon him that he might have watched the lynx, one of
the night pirates of all this strange wilderness, and that its pelt,
at this season, would be worthless. He went to the rock cautiously.
The lynx was not there. He walked around it, holding his rifle in
readiness for attack. The lynx was gone. He had made a clean miss!

Both Mukoki and Wabigoon met him on the opposite side of the rock.

"'Nother heap big Woonga," grinned the old pathfinder remembering
Rod's former adventure on this same plateau. "Kill?"

"Missed!" said Rod shortly. "What a scream that was! Ugh!"

This time he went to bed with the others, and slept until early dawn.