OTTER-HUNTING 375 



moving, for the scent holds good through the 

 dewy grass, and there is no time to be lost, 

 so for the next mile or two we are scuttling 

 through the meadows, and negotiating the inter- 

 secting fences as best we can ; now plunging 

 through the water at a shallow, up the steep bank 

 and over the rails into the highroad, across the 

 bridge, and on again up the meadows to the pool 

 below the mill, where, amongst the roots of an 

 old willow-tree, the otter has taken refuge, though 

 not for long, for, escaping through a hole at 

 the back of the hollow trunk, he again slips into 

 the water, only just in time to avoid being tackled 

 by a young hound. At length his course is nearly 

 run ; every point by which he could escape has 

 been stopped, though he has twice made an attempt 

 to force the line of human legs which guard the 

 shallow. One could wish that his life might be 

 spared, for the proceeding is now little better than 

 a rat-hunt, with all the odds against the rat. 



The sport of the thing is over, and five minutes 

 later the otter is struggling in mid-air, having been 

 dexterously polled by the master. Alas, poor beast! 

 more sinned against than sinning, his worst crimes 

 have been the slaughter of a goodly number of 

 eels and a few fish. 



But the sun is high, and getting unpleasantly 

 warm ; the dews have dried off the meadows, and 

 the scent is fast failing. Most of us begin to 

 experience the feeling known as a sinking, or, in 

 other words, a craving for food, for it is several 



