crouched and lashed his sides with his tail as if about to spring
toward him. The trap hung from one of his hind-legs, but by some means
he had relieved himself of the clog and chain, and he moved as if the
weight of the trap were no inconvenience whatever. The young
naturalist was frightened indeed, but bravely stood his ground, and
clutched his ax desperately. What would he not have given to have had
his trusty double-barrel in his hands! But he was not allowed much
time for reflection. Brave instantly discovered the wild-cat, and
sprang toward him, uttering an angry growl. Frank raised his ax and
rushed forward to his assistance, and cheered on the dog with a voice
which, to save his life, he could not raise above a whisper. The
wild-cat crouched lower along the log, and his actions seemed to
indicate that he intended to show fight. Brave's long, eager bounds
brought him nearer and nearer to his enemy. A moment more and he could
have seized him; but the wild-cat suddenly turned and sprang lightly
into the air, and, catching his claws into a tree that stood full
twenty feet distant, ascended it like a streak of light; and, after
settling himself between two large limbs, glared down upon his foes as
if he were already ashamed of having made a retreat, and had half a
mind to return and give them battle. Brave reached the log just a
moment too late, and finding his enemy fairly out of his reach, he
quietly seated himself at the foot of the tree and waited for Frank to
come up.

"Good gracious!" exclaimed the young naturalist, wiping his forehead
with his coat-sleeve, (for the exciting scene through which he had
just passed had brought the cold sweat from every pore in his body);
"it is a lucky circumstance for you and me, Brave, that the varmint
did not stand and show fight."