68 THE LIFE STORY OF AN OTTER 



above the bar. The rower shipped the oars, 

 turned round on his seat, and dropped the killick 

 quietly overboard ; but the boat still moved for- 

 ward till the painter stopped the way on it, less 

 than a score of yards from the otter, who looked 

 on at the baiting and setting of the lines, and 

 even the lighting of a pipe before the old man 

 settled down to watch the floats. 



Motionless though the fisherman sat, the otter 

 remained on the alert and, whenever the old 

 man rose to land a fish, was on the point of 

 diving and making his escape from so dangerous 

 a neighbour. Thus hour after hour passed, and 

 the morning wore away with no change in the 

 situation, save that a little before noon black 

 clouds rose above the horizon and drifted into 

 the blue spaces of the sky. Intent on his fishing, 

 the marshman took little notice of the sudden 

 change of weather, until a gust of wind shook 

 the reed-bed and big drops of rain began to fall. 

 Then, casting a few uneasy glances to windward, 

 he pulled in his lines, raised the killick, pressed 

 his hat on his head, and rowed away. 



