It is not my intention to dwell too long upon the first stages of my tutorship, which presented few difficulties not easily surmounted, but it is necessary in order to understand Jerry's character that I set down a few facts which show certain phases of his development. Of his physical courage, at thirteen, I need only relate an incident of one of our winter expeditions. We were hunting coons one night with the dogs, a collie and the bull pup, which now rejoiced in the name of Skookums, already mentioned. The dogs treed their game three miles from the Manor house, and when we came up were running around the tree, whimpering and barking in a high state of excitement. The night was dark and the branches of the tree were thick, so we could see nothing, but Jerry clambered up, armed with a stout stick, and disappeared into the gloom overhead.
"I see something, but it looks too big for a coon," he returned.
"It looks more like a cat, with queer-looking ears."
"You'd better come down then, Jerry," I said quickly.
"It looks like a lynx," he called again, quite unperturbed.
It was quite possible that he was right, for in this part of the Catskill country lynxes were still plentiful.
"Then come down at once," I shouted. "He may go for you."
"Oh, I'm not worried about that. I have my hunting knife," he said coolly.
"Not until he does," he replied with a laugh.
I called again. Jerry didn't reply, for just then there was a sudden shaking of the dry leaves above me, the creaking of a bough and the snarl of a wild animal, and the sound of a blow.
"Jerry!" I cried. No reply, but the sound of the struggle overhead increased, dreadful sounds of snarling and of scratching, but no sound of Jerry. Fearful of imminent tragedy, I climbed quickly, amid the uproar of the dogs, and, knife in hand, had got my feet an the lower branches, when a heavy weight shot by me and fell to the ground. Thank God, not the boy!
"Jerry!" I cried again, clambering upward.
"A-all r-right, Mr. Canby," I heard. "You're safe, not hurt?"
"I'm all right, I think. Just--just scratched."
By this time I had reached him. He was braced in the crotch of a limb, leaning against the tree trunk still holding his hunting knife. His coat was wet and I guessed at rather than saw the pallor of his face Below were the sounds of the dogs worrying at the animal.