lynx, some distance farther down the river. The cry had sounded perfectly natural, and still, under the circumstances, he mistrusted it. He ceased paddling and listened suspiciously. Precious moments passed. The call was not repeated. The cries and signals from his foes had stopped. An ominous hush had settled upon the forest. Spotted Deer feared it. He believed that the lynx cry had carried a warning.
"It is bad," he whispered.
Fearing to loiter, he moved cautiously down the river. He wondered if crafty scouts were waiting to intercept him. Could he escape them? The possibility of another collision with his mysterious foes tried his courage. Still, he believed that his safest plan was to continue on his way. Night was his ally, and he hoped to pass safely in the darkness. He felt quite sure that his foes were close behind him. He feared that they would soon overtake him. The thought made him reckless. He resolved to continue down the river.
Spotted Deer paddled desperately to keep ahead
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