flat-irons wildly at his pursuer, and jumped as far as he could to
one side. The lynx kept straight on, headed for the woods a few
rods away.

Jacques had found his gun at last. He took a flying shot in the
moonlight, hitting a tree at least a rod at the lynx's right. Then
the two went inside, enlivened the fire, and dressed as hastily as
possible.

"Consumption is bad, ver' bad for Canadians," said Jacques, a
half-hour later, picking his words with care.

Ray grinned, but made no reply.

"Night air is good; but Ah don' lak dese--dese beeg microbes eet
bring in."




SOLOMON'S GROUCH: THE STORY OF A BEAR

By Franklin W. Calkins


A pet grizzly bear had been for a number of years a feature
at Hartranft's. As a puny infant, barely able to crawl, Solomon,
as he was solemnly dubbed, was brought in off the Teton Mountains,
and as milk was scarcer than money at the horse-ranch, he was
aristocratically fed on malted milk.