14 BOBBY LYNX OP BOUND-TOP 
—ready for a spring. Her short, stubby 
tail twitched ever so slightly and her big 
grey-green eyes seemed to turn black as 
she intently watched a fallen tree at the 
foot of the rock. There was a short 
scuffle in a drift of snow that the warm, 
spring sun had not yet melted and then 
she saw a slim grey-brown animal drawing 
a plump partridge from beneath the log. 
Over the drift he dragged her to a flat 
piece of rock right beneath Mrs. Lynx. 
It was a weasel,—as Mrs. Lynx knew 
well. 
Now,—all the Forest-people hated 
Jimmy Weasel. All the field-mice and 
the young birds and the rabbits and the 
squirrels,—oh, how they hated him! And 
well they might, for he was sly and tricky 
and cruel. He could creep down into the 
most carefully hidden rabbit burrow and 
catch a dear, soft baby rabbit before Mrs. 
Rabbit could do one thing to defend her 
