96 BOBBY LYNX OF BOUND-TOP 
clay, the Thing,—a hunter’s knife, lay in 
the path and, day after day, Bobby sniffed 
and snarled at it, but not once would he 
touch it. Not even when the snow had 
rusted it and the wind and rain had all 
but robbed it of the man-smell, would he 
go near it. Bobby had learned the man- 
lesson too well to let even the well-known 
curiosity of his cat-nature make him for¬ 
get. 
And then came the night that was the 
very worst time in all Bobby’s life,— 
worse than even that awful morning when 
he had first smelled the man-smell! Food 
was getting scarce on Round-Top and be¬ 
sides, Bobby was growing very tired of 
the old paths and of the Hollow Tree 
House. He liked to go for long prowls 
and hunts over on the Ridge and even 
though the winter wind frequently 
brought him the hated man-smell, it was 
so faint and far-off that he knew it did not 
