212 THE MOOSE 



crippling blow he had dealt as he drew himself up 

 free. What a fine hand he had played I How 

 subtle I How well managed 1 



But in the lynx world, as in ours, credit one 

 takes is seldom deserved. We take credit to our- 

 selves to bolster up hope, to counterbalance our 

 liabilities. Unfortunately, no animal is its own 

 auditor, and the gods only accept items that pass 

 muster. 



Lucivee of the bluff, sick with pain and mad 

 with anger, seized his opportunity and his opponent 

 too, and getting him somewhere near the neck, 

 held on, held on. . . . 



Over and over the spitting, spluttering cats rolled, 

 the lesser ever seeking to protect the vital spot 

 sought by his enemy. Inch by inch the fatal teeth 

 crept nearer. 



The cries grew fainter ; now the warriors only 

 hummed drowsily, save when the tabby in the 

 bushes called. 



Exhausted and blinded though he was, the larger 

 lynx, summoning all his strength, let go his grip of 

 his enemy's back, and caught it again nearer the 

 neck. Little by little he got an unshakable hold. 

 He felt the warm body beneath stiffening. 



