BOBBY LYNX OF ROUND-TOP 13 
Mother Lynx could not get even one. 
She would lie stretched out on the arm of 
a beech tree, her grey fur matching the 
bark so perfectly that she was almost in¬ 
visible and there she would watch, hoping 
that some deer would come down the 
snowy runway beneath her. Although 
Mrs. Lynx knew that she was getting old, 
she was so hungry that she would not 
have been afraid to attack even a cross, 
old buck had she been so fortunate as to 
see one. 
All of these long days and nights of 
hunger had made her very thin and very, 
very cross and ugly and oh,—how she 
wished she could have some breakfast this 
nice spring morning! And then, the soft 
winds blowing down the hillside brought 
a sound so close to her that she instantly 
flattened out against the rock,—so flat, in¬ 
deed, that she looked like a part of it. 
Down she crouched, every muscle tense, 
