His species associated in pairs, though many of them were much of their time alone. He had no yearning for their society. Nor did he show any enthusiasm when Yarri, an old acquaintance, came on to his branch as he rose from his solitary meal in a big blue gum. He resented the intrusion. But the visitor took no notice. He was a droll warrior who was not easily turned from anything he had set his mind upon, and he had set his mind on a bunch of choice young leaves that overhung a comfortable seat.
They came together with mutual growls. There was no room to get past. The intruder, who was the bigger of the two, edged an inch or two farther. The movement brought forth another growl from Booraby, and he struck at him with his claws. Yarri at once reared up, and, grasping the other with both hands, endeavored to throw him off. Booraby, holding to the limb with his powerful toes, fought fiercely with tooth and claw. For a moment or two, they rocked and swayed, and made a noise that could be heard a mile away. Suddenly, they both toppled over, and the combat ended with a thumping fall to the ground.
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