182 GRIMALKIN THE CAT 
the breeze ? Why was the Spring Longing so 
insolently apparent in every bud and bough, and 
why did they flaunt it so heartlessly in his face ? 
Could they restore a darkened eye, or rejuvenate 
weakened limbs ? Thus might have mused Grim- 
alkin of Knockdane, who was king there no more. 
It had come at last, a cold hand which grips man 
and beast alike, certain and irremediable. Old Age 
was stealing fast behind him. And old age means 
more to the Fur Folk than to human beings. When 
their strength once declines ever so slightly, they 
must go to the wall to make room for stronger 
hunters. They are the lawful prey of any who 
can take them. If by any chance they escape 
death by their fellows, nothing remains but Star- 
vation a slower agony. 
Grimalkin could not look into the future and 
see what Fate had in store for him, but perhaps 
he was all the happier for it. Mortified and baffled 
as he was at his defeat, he did not realise that a day 
would come when he must pass by the full-grown 
buck rabbit for the young and sickly, or later on 
prey on grass-mice which he now disdained. But 
this day was still far off. Loud called the March 
wind overhead. Grimalkin rose, and ceased to try 
and tear the darkness from his blinded eye. He 
was hungry, and his hunter's skill still remained to 
