snow drops down.  You gaze intently at the spot.  Then out of the deep shadow two living coals are suddenly kindled.  They grow larger and larger, glowing, flashing, burning holes into your eyes till you brush them swiftly with your hand.  A shiver runs over you, for to look into the eyes of a lynx at night, when the light catches them, is a scary experience.  Your rifle jumps to position; the glowing coals are quenched on the instant.  Then, when your eyes have blinked the fascination out of them, the shadows go creeping in and out again, and Upweekis is lost amongst them.

Sometimes, indeed, you see him again.  Moktaques, the big white hare, who forgets a thing the moment it is past, sees you standing there and is full of curiosity.  He forgets that he was being hunted a moment ago, and comes hopping along to see what you are.  You back away toward the fire.  He scampers off in a fright, but presently comes hopping after you.  Watch the underbrush behind him sharply.  In a moment it stirs stealthily, as if a shadow were moving it; and there is the lynx, stealing along in the snow with his eyes blazing.  Again Moktaques feels that he is hunted, and does the only safe thing; he crouches low in the snow, where a fir-tip bends over him, and is still as the earth.  His color hides him perfectly.

Upweekis has lost the trail again; he wavers back and forth, like a shadow under a swinging lamp, turning his great head from side to side.  He cannot see nor hear nor smell his game; but he saw a bit of snow fly a moment ago, and knows that it came from Moktaques’ big pads.  Don’t stir now; be still as the great spruce in whose shadow you stand; and, once in a hunter’s lifetime perhaps, you will see a curious tragedy.

The lynx settles himself in the snow, with all four feet close together, ready for a spring.  As you watch and wonder, a screech rings out through the woods, so sharp and fierce that no rabbit’s nerves can stand it close at hand and be still.  Moktaques jumps straight up in the air.  The lynx sees it, whirls, hurls himself at the spot.  Another screech, a different one, and then you know that it’s all over.

And that is why Upweekis’ cry is so fierce and sudden on a winter night.  Your fire attracts the rabbits.  Upweekis knows this, or is perhaps attracted himself and comes also, and hides among the shadows.  But he never catches anything unless he blunders onto it.  That is why he wanders so much in winter and passes twenty rabbits before he catches one.  So when he knows that Moktaques is near, watching the light, but remaining himself invisible, Upweekis crouches for a spring; then he screeches fearfully.  Moktaques hears it and is startled, as anybody else would be, hearing such a cry near him.  He jumps in a fright and pays the penalty.