66 THE LIFE STORY OF AN OTTER 



the barren holdings beyond and, before the squire 

 had given up hope of their reappearance and 

 resumed his pen, she had dropped from the 

 boundary wall of Cold Comfort Farm and set 

 foot on the waste that stretches to the very tip 

 of the promontory. 



The wanderers kept near the cliffs, going 

 straight from angle to angle of the indentations 

 that mark the jagged coast-line. Here and there 

 they moved along the edge, so close one behind 

 the other as to look like one creature, presenting 

 even, at times, a snake-like appearance, especially 

 when twisting in and out of the colony of ant- 

 heaps that dotted the long slope within a mile of 

 their destination. Near the top they disturbed 

 a wheatear from amongst some cushions of with- 

 ered sea-pinks ; but not another creature did they 

 see until abreast of the seal rock, where a cor- 

 morant stood watching for the dawn. Then, 

 striking the marsh at the end of a finger-like 

 creek, they followed the bank above it till the 

 mere with its reed-beds lay before them. Not 

 a breath ruffled the surface : the array of stems 

 stood motionless as forest-trees : all was strangely 

 still, save that the sea was heaving ominously. 

 After a keen scrutiny of the cottage opposite 

 them and a single glance at the sand-bar to the 



