Now to his disgust Rag noticed that the new-comer was a head taller than himself, and a big, stout buck at that.  This was a wholly new experience and filled Rag with a wholly new feeling.  The spirit of murder entered his heart; he chewed very hard with nothing in his mouth, and hopping forward onto a smooth piece of hard ground he struck slowly: 

‘Thump—­thump—­thump,’ which is a rabbit telegram for ’Get out of my swamp, or fight.’

The new-comer made a big V with his ears, sat upright for a few seconds, then, dropping on his fore-feet, sent along the ground a louder, stronger, ‘Thump—­thump—­thump.’

And so war was declared.

They came together by short runs sidewise, each one trying to get the wind of the other and watching for a chance advantage.  The stranger was a big, heavy buck with plenty of muscle, but one or two trifles such as treading on a turnover and failing to close when Rag was on low ground showed that he had not much cunning and counted on winning his battles by his weight.  On he came at last and Rag met him like a little fury.  As they came together they leaped up and struck out with their hind feet. Thud, thud they came, and down went poor little Rag.  In a moment the stranger was on him with his teeth and Rag was bitten, and lost several tufts of hair before he could get up.  But he was swift of foot and got out of reach.  Again he charged and again he was knocked down and bitten severely.  He was no match for his foe, and it soon became a question of saving his own life.

Hurt as he was he sprang away, with the stranger in full chase, and bound to kill him as well as to oust him from the Swamp where he was born.  Rag’s legs were good and so was his wind.  The stranger was big and so heavy that he soon gave up the chase, and it was well for poor Rag that he did, for he was getting stiff from his wounds as well as tired.  From that day began a reign of terror for Rag.  His training had been against owls, dogs, weasels, men, and so on, but what to do when chased by another rabbit, he did not know.  All he knew was to lay low till he was found, then run.

Poor little Molly was completely terrorized; she could not help Rag and sought only to hide.  But the big buck soon found her out.  She tried to run from him, but she was not now so swift as Rag.  The stranger made no attempt to kill her, but he made love to her, and because she hated him and tried to get away, he treated her shamefully.  Day after day he worried her by following her about, and often, furious at her lasting hatred, he would knock her down and tear out mouthfuls of her soft fur till his rage cooled somewhat, when he would let her go for awhile.  But his fixed purpose was to kill Rag, whose escape seemed hopeless.  There was no other swamp he could go to, and whenever he took a nap now he had to be ready at any moment to dash for his life.  A dozen times a day the big stranger came creeping