72 THE LIFE STORY OF AN OTTER 



on the remains of old feasts — fish bones, crab and 

 lobster shells — and on old nests made of reeds. 

 One cave there was where the muffled boom of 

 the waves was broken by the tinkle of falling 

 water, and where the skeletons of otters whitened 

 the floor on the edge of the runlet that had worn 

 a channel in the rock. Quickly leaving it, the 

 animals made their way back along the low, 

 tortuous passage by which they had entered and, 

 passing through the outer caves, regained the 

 clitter. There they chased one another until 

 they tired. Then they took to the sea, reached 

 the line of the breakers, and landed through the 

 welter as easily as, later, they landed on the bank 

 of the mere by the inflow. The otter was then 

 leading her cubs to the withy-bed and to the 

 boggy ground between it and the old decoy, 

 where she trod the water-mint as she went. 



So the hours of darkness were spent, and when 

 the grey light told of coming day otter and cubs 

 slipped into the stream and drifted towards the 

 mere. On reaching the choppy water they fell 

 to swimming, turned up the sheltered creek, 

 skirted the island where two of them had ken- 

 nelled the day before, and landed near a bramble 

 brake, in which they curled up side by side. The 

 cubs soon slept, but the excitement of the 



