Frank, the Young Naturalist | Page 7

to his feet, and upsetting his
chair and coffee-cup.
But Frank could not wait to answer. One bound carried him across the
floor and out of the door, and he started across the field at the top of his
speed, dropping a handful of buck-shot into each barrel of his gun as he
went. It was not until Frank had left the house that Archie, so to speak,
came to himself. He had been so astonished at his cousin's actions and
the announcement that he had "found the wild-cat," that he seemed to
be deprived of action. But Frank had not made a dozen steps from the
house before Archie made a dash for his gun, and occasioned a greater
uproar than Frank had done; and, not stopping to hear the farmer's
injunction to "be careful," he darted out the door, which Frank in his

hurry had left open, and started toward the woods at a rate of speed that
would have done credit to a larger boy than himself. But Frank gained
rapidly on him; and when he reached the tree where the wild-cat had
taken refuge, Archie was full twenty rods behind. He found that the
animals had not changed their positions. The wild-cat was glaring
fiercely down upon the dog as if endeavoring to look him out of
countenance; and Brave, seated on his haunches, with his head turned
on one side, and his tongue hanging out of the side of his mouth, was
steadily returning the gaze. Frank took a favorable position at a little
distance from the foot of the tree, and cocking both barrels, so as to be
ready for any emergency, in case the first should not prove fatal, raised
his gun to his shoulder, and glancing along the clean, brown tube,
covered one of the wild-cat's eyes with the fatal sight, and pressed the
trigger. There was a sharp report, and the animal fell from his perch
stone-dead. At this moment Archie came up. After examining their
prize to their satisfaction, the boys commenced looking around through
the bushes to find the clog which had been detached from the trap.
After some moments' search they discovered it; and Archie unfastened
the chain, and shouldering the ax and guns, he started toward the house.
Frank followed after, with the wild-cat on his shoulder, the trap still
hanging to his leg. The skin was carefully taken off; and when Archie
and Frank got home, they stuffed it, and placed it as we now see it.
CHAPTER III.
The Museum.
Let us now proceed to examine the other objects in the museum. A
wide shelf, elevated about four feet above the floor, extends entirely
around the room, and on this the specimens are mounted. On one side
of the door stands a tall, majestic elk, with his head thrown forward,
and his wide-spreading antlers lowered, as if he meant to dispute our
entrance. On the opposite side is a large black fox, which stands with
one foot raised and his ears thrown forward, as if listening to some
strange sound. This is the same fox which so long held possession of
Reynard's Island; and the young naturalist and his cousin were the ones
who succeeded in capturing him. The next two scenes are what Frank

calls his "masterpieces." The first is a large buck, running for dear life,
closely followed by a pack of gaunt, hungry wolves, five in number,
with their sharp-pointed ears laid back close to their heads, their
tongues hanging out of their mouths, and their lips spotted with foam
The flanks of the buck are dripping with blood from wounds made by
their long teeth. In the next scene the buck is at bay. Almost tired out,
or, perhaps, too closely pressed by his pursuers, he has at length turned
furiously upon them, to sell his life as dearly as possible. Two of the
wolves are lying a little distance off, where they have been tossed by
the powerful buck, one dead, the other disabled; and the buck's sharp
antlers are buried deep in the side of another, which had attempted to
seize him.
Well may Frank be proud of these specimens, for they are admirably
executed. The animals are neatly stuffed, and look so lifelike and the
positions are so natural, that you could almost fancy that you hear the
noise of the scuffle. The next scene represents an owl, which, while
engaged in one of his nocturnal plundering expeditions, has been
overtaken by daylight, and not being able to reach his usual
hiding-place, he has taken refuge in a clump of bushes, where he has
been discovered by a flock of his inveterate enemies, the crows. The
owl sits upon his perch, glaring around with his great eyes, while his
tormentors