It was not often that Old Man Lynx gave voice to the pangs of hunger. For he knew that for every grouse or hare or baby fox he startled into betraying its whereabouts, he scared a dozen so far away that it made hunting harder next time.

But tonight he was teaching some one else the trick.

At the very time that Father Red Fox was viewing his own red-brown pups with such mingled pride and amusement, and Mother Douglas was driving Father Douglas out of the old oak tree, lest he should step on one of the squirrel babies, and Mammy and Daddy Cottontail were taking turn and turn about guarding the six brown bunnies on the edge of the cornfield, Madam Lynx—away up on the top of Mt. Olaf—was just as proud as any one of two great, scraggly kittens, as heavy-pawed and bob-tailed and fierce-looking as anything that could be imagined.

At first even these ferocious creatures were as blind and helpless and appealing as any tame kittens could have been, though without their grace. And as soon as they learned the use of their legs, they rolled and tumbled, and growled and spat, and boxed one another about, fully as mischievously as had Fluff, the maltese kitten at the farm, when she and her little brothers lived in the basket behind the kitchen stove.

But Old Man Lynx was kept mighty busy, let me tell you, as soon as they were weaned and could eat meat; for the two youngsters were such ravenous creatures and they grew so fast, and the mountain air was so stimulating, that it just seemed as if he couldn’t bring in enough to keep his share of the larder filled.

So it was by way of teaching young Bob Kitten and his brother how to hunt that old Man Lynx had screamed in such a blood-curdling manner.

Decidedly Wriggly Nose and Shadow Tail, and even fat young Frisky Fox, were going to have a very much harder time of it making their way in the world, now that there was a new young lynx on the top of Mount Olaf.

Twinkly Eyes was later to share a couple of interesting adventures with young Bobby Lynx.