tranger 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 lie 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 a while. 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 up to where he slept, but each time the
watchful Rag awoke in time to escape. To escape yet not to escape. He
saved his life indeed, but oh! what a miserable life it had become. How
maddening to be thus helpless, to see his little mother daily beaten
and torn, as well as to see all his favorite feeding-grounds, the cosy
nooks, and the pathways he had made with so much labor, forced from him
by this hateful brute. Unhappy Rag realized that to the victor belong
the spoils, and he hated him more than ever he did fox or ferret.

How was it to end? He was wearing out with running and watching and bad
food, and little Molly's strength and spirit were breaking down under
the long persecution. The stranger was ready to go to all lengths to
destroy poor Rag, and at last stooped to the worst crime known among
rabbits. However much they may hate each other, all good rabbits forget
their feuds when their common enemy appears. Yet one day when a great
goshawk came swooping over the Swamp, the stranger, keeping well under
cover himself, tried again and again to drive Rag into the open.

Once or twice the hawk nearly had him, but still the briers saved him,
and it was only when the big buck himself came near being caught that he
gave it up. And agai