Next day it was Yan’s turn to cook.  At sunrise, as he went for water, he saw a large Blue Heron rise from the edge of the pond and fly on heavy pinions away over the tree-tops.  It was a thrilling sight.  The boy stood gazing after it, absolutely rapt with delight, and when it was gone he went to the place where it rose and found plenty of large tracks just like the one he had sketched.  Unquestionably it was the same bird as on the night before, and the mystery of the Wolf with the sore throat was solved.  This explanation seemed quite satisfactory to everybody but Guy.  He had always maintained stoutly that the woods were full of Bears right after sundown.  Where they went at other times was a mystery, but he “reckoned he hadn’t yet run across the bird that could scare him—­no, nor the beast, nuther.”

Caleb agreed that the grating cry must be that of the Blue Crane, but the screech and wail in the tree-tops at night he could shed no light on.

There were many other voices of the night that became more or less familiar.  Some of them were evidently birds; one was the familiar Song-Sparrow, and high over the tree-tops from the gloaming sky they often heard a prolonged sweet song.  It was not till years afterward that Yan found out this to be the night-song of the Oven-bird, but he was able to tell them at once the cause of the startling outcry that happened one evening an hour after sundown.

The Woodpecker was outside, the other two inside the teepee.  A peculiar sound fell on his ear.  It kept on—­a succession of long whines, and getting stronger.  As it gave no sign of ending, Sam called the other boys.  They stood in a row there and heard this peculiar “whine, whine, whine” develop into a loud, harsh “whow, whow, whow.”

“It must be some new Heron cry,” Yan whispered.

But the sound kept on increasing till it most resembled the yowling of a very strong-voiced Cat, and still grew till each separate “meow” might have been the yell of a Panther.  Then at its highest and loudest there was a prolonged “meow" and silence, followed finally by the sweet chant of the Song-sparrow.

A great light dawned on Little Beaver.  Now he remembered that voice in Glenyan so long ago, and told the others with an air of certainty: 

“Boys, that’s the yelling of a Lynx,” and the next day Caleb said that Yan was right.

Some days later they learned that another lamb had been taken from the Raften flock that night.

In the morning Yan took down the tom-tom for a little music and found it flat and soft.

“Hallo,” said he; “going to rain.”

Caleb looked up at him with an amused expression.  “You’re a reg’lar Injun.  It’s surely an Injun trick that.  When the tom-tom won’t sing without being warmed at the fire they allus says ‘rain before night.’”