60 THE LIFE STORY OF AN OTTER 



silvery salmon, lay awake making her plans, till 

 at length she, too, yielded to her fatigue and 

 slept like the cubs. 



Night had fallen when the otters stole through 

 the outlet, left half uncovered by the ebb, and 

 swam with rapid strokes for the head of the bay. 

 They were off to a new fishing-ground. They 

 landed where a stream crosses the beach and, 

 striking into the valley down which it flows, fol- 

 lowed its course without a halt, until they reached 

 the junction of the two rivulets that form it. 

 There, however, the otter stood irresolute. Each 

 water led towards a delectable destination — the 

 one to the salmon pools, the other to her native 

 marsh, with its abundant food-supply and secure 

 hovers among the reed-beds — and which to make 

 for she could not decide, until it struck her that 

 the cubs might never find the outlying water 

 without her. Then she set aside her hesitation, 

 and held along the western branch at a pace 

 quicker than before, as if to recover the time 

 lost in making up her mind. 



Leaving the valley about a mile above the 

 confluence, she cut straight across the middle of 

 the hilly field to the upper corner, where a flock 

 of lambs stood awestruck to watch the strange 

 intruders climb the bank into the next pasture, 



