122 THE LIFE OF THE FIELDS. 



the badger. Now and then, in the excitement of the 

 hunt, a man will put his hand into the hole occupied 

 by the otter to draw him out. If the huntsman sees 

 this there is some hard language used, for if the otter 

 chance to catch the hand, he might so crush and 

 mangle it that it would be useless for life. Nothing 

 annoys the huntsman more than anything of this kind. 

 The otter's short legs are deceptive ; it does not 

 look as if a creature so low down could be very serious 

 to encounter or difficult to kill. His short legs are, 

 in fact, an addition to his strength, which is perhaps 

 greater than that of any other animal of proportionate 

 size. He weighs nearly as heavy as a fox, and is 

 even as hard to kill fairly. Unless speared, or knocked 

 heavily on the head, the otter-hounds can rarely kill 

 him in the water; when driven to land at last or;) to 

 a shallow he is often rather crushed and pressed to 

 death than anything else, and the skin sometimes 

 has not got a single toothmark in it. Not a single 

 hound has succeeded in biting through, but there 

 is a different story to tell on the other side. A 

 terrier has his jaw loose and it has to be bound up, 

 such a crushing bite has he had. There are torn 

 shoulders, necks, and limbs, and specks of blood on the 

 nostrils and coats of the other hounds. A full-grown 

 otter fights like a lion in the water ; if he gets in a 

 hole under the bank where it is hollow, called a 

 " hover," he has to be thrust out with a pole. He 

 dives under the path of his enemies as they yelp in the 

 water, and as he goes attacks one from beneath, seizes 

 him by the leg, and drags him down, and almost 

 drowns him before he will let ^o. The air he is com- 



