52 THE LIFE STORY OF AN OTTER 



came crashing through the undergrowth, the 

 otter made off, and the cub followed her. 



They struck the estuary near a jetty piled 

 with bundles of oak-bark, floundered through the 

 mud, and reached the river. The tedious bend, 

 of which the otters had crossed the neck, now 

 lay behind, and in front stretched the long reach 

 marked by broad sand-banks that the tide was 

 beginning to crawl over. So otter and cubs, 

 after passing two branch creeks, musical with 

 the whistlings of night-feeding birds, came to 

 the deeper water, where hulks rode at their last 

 anchorage, and, farther on, to the landlocked 

 haven in which tall-masted vessels swung to 

 their moorings, and the lights of a little seaport 

 and fishing village winked at one another across 

 the salt waters. On viewing the uncanny lights 

 and hearing the shouts of a drunken sailor the 

 male cub sidled up to his mother ; and great was 

 his relief when she rounded the rocky promontory 

 that projects into the harbour, and entered the 

 tranquil creek, whose waters reflected only the 

 friendly moon. 



