76 BOBBY LYNX OF BOUND-TOP 
rage at this new lynx, now throbbed with 
fear. His snarls that had been snarls of 
anger, seemed now to hold a whimper as 
if he knew that the Stranger Lynx was 
getting the better of him. 
Bobby wanted to stop fighting; he 
would have liked to run if he had dared, 
but well he knew that his legs could not 
carry him far and that the stranger would 
pounce on him like a cat on a mouse. 
No,—he must go on fighting. Half 
blinded by pain and his smarting wounds, 
he once more struck out viciously with 
both forepaws. He caught the old lynx 
off guard and ripped his face from crown 
to muzzle and then they clinched once 
more,—a fighting mass of fur and claws, 
that again rolled down the hill. Hitting 
against trees, biting and clawing, they 
rolled right to the top of the rock where 
once Mother Lynx had watched Jimmy 
Weasel. 
