The horses nodded their heads, as though agreeing with all he had said; the bells tinkled and the sled runners crunched over the snow. Prince did not feel so much like “cavorting,” as Tim called it, and followed the sled at a sober gait. The woods were very silent. Not a bird winged its way across their path, and all the rabbits seemed to have hidden themselves. The little girl began to nod and her eyes blinked. Suddenly, on the branch of a tree that overhung the road they were following, Carolyn May saw a grey, furry body hugging close to the limb. “Oh! what’s that?” she gasped, scarcely loud enough for Tim to hear. At one end of the grey body a round, catlike head was thrust out over the branch—the eyes yellow and glaring, the pointed ears erect. “Oh, what a big cat!” Carolyn May cried, louder now. “See there!” Tim, the hackman, turned in startled haste. At her cry the animal on the limb gathered its legs under it, arched its back, and uttered a startling screech. “Oh, dear me!” murmured Carolyn May, “he’s seen Prince.” This was probably the case, for the creature repeated its yowl, just like an enraged tom-cat, only much louder than even old Jimmy could squall. Tim yelled to the horses and bent forward to lash them with the slack of the reins. They leaped ahead, but not soon enough to carry the loaded sled out from under the limb. Prince, who had uttered a challenging growl, danced around the trunk of the tree. The huge cat leaped! “Oh, my! Oh, my!” shrieked Carolyn May. She did not realise the full danger of the situation. A mad lynx is no pleasant beast to meet; and this one, when it leaped, landed upon the rear of the load of logs. “Pitcher of George Washington!” yelled Tim, the hackman. “We’re boarded by pirates, sure enough!” The squalling, clawing brute tried to draw itself up on the logs. The horses were running now, and the jolting of the sled made the beast’s hold precarious. Besides, just as the cat landed, Prince darted around to the rear of the sled. With a growl of rage, the big mongrel flung himself upward and managed to seize the lynx just at the root of its stubby tail. Then there was a squalling time, indeed! The cat, clawing and spitting, sought to retain its hold on the logs, and yet strike at its adversary. Prince had claws of his own, and he was scratching at the logs to gain a foothold; but his claws were not like the sabre-sharp nails of the lynx. A single thrust of a spread paw of the cat would have raked poor Prince’s hide to shreds. With the horses galloping and the lynx jouncing, half on and half off the logs, there was little likelihood of the wildcat’s turning on its enemy. There was enough bull in Prince to clamp his jaws in an unbreakable hold, now that he had gripped the lynx. Carolyn May was thoroughly frightened. She had to cling with both hands to save herself from being flung from the sled. Tim began to realise, at length, that he must do something besides yell at the horses.