There was a flash in the moonlight, a sharp report, and a shout from the direction of the camp.

In another moment Rod was upon his feet, and sorry that he had shot.

It flashed upon him that he might have watched the lynx, one of the night pirates of all this strange wilderness, and that its pelt, at this season, would be worthless.

He went to the rock cautiously.
The lynx was not there.

He walked around it, holding his rifle in readiness for attack.