THE MALE CUB IN A HUFF 67 



left, the otter trotted down the bank and, enter- 

 ing the water, swam towards the farther shore. 

 But when near the wall of reeds she half- wheeled, 

 and coasted along the curves of the little bays, 

 skirting the lily-beds where she had disported 

 when a cub. 



Till now the finny tenants of the mere had 

 given no sign of their presence ; but as the otters 

 drew near the inflow a dace jumped out of the 

 water, and the jaws of a pike showed above the 

 surface within a few inches of it. The sight 

 stirred the hunting instincts of the male cub, 

 and so great was his rage at his mother's indif- 

 ference that, when she crossed the current on 

 her way to the creek, he turned back, deter- 

 mined to hover by himself. He landed on a 

 point between two bays and trampled a couch 

 at the food of the reeds. An old otter could not 

 have chosen a kennel seemingly safer, yet scarcely 

 had he curled up when a most alarming noise 

 struck his ears. It was the creak of oars against 

 the thole-pins, and it grew louder and louder till 

 he jumped to his feet to see what was coming. 

 Almost immediately the bow of a boat appeared 

 round a clump of bulrushes, and at the oars bent 

 the old marshman in his reed-plaited hat and 

 guernsey frock, all lit up by the red sun, now just 



9—2 



