A WILD NIGHT 73 



journey to the salmon river kept the otter awake 

 longing for dusk, so eager was she to cross the 

 moors and reach the pools. She dropped asleep 

 at last, but awoke long before setting-out time 

 and, whilst awaiting nightfall, watched the angry 

 sun go down and the clouds scud by close over- 

 head. 



Before it was quite dark she aroused the cubs, 

 and made up the hilly ground towards the heart 

 of the moor. It was a wild night, but the fury 

 of the gale seemed to quicken the energies of the 

 wanderers, for they breasted the foothills at a 

 pace beyond their wont and soon gained the 

 high plateau with its chain of pools, known to 

 men as the Black Liddens. These they swam as 

 they came to them, passed to the heathery waste 

 with its old Stone Circle, and reached the marshy 

 valley and the lazy stream which supplies the 

 mere. The wind had little force there — the 

 thorns, shaggy with lichen, stood motionless, 

 even the bulrushes scarcely stirred ; but over a 

 stagnant backwater a will-o'-the-wisp kept 

 dancing like a lantern swung by invisible hands. 

 Splash ! splash ! the otters crossed the shallow 

 pool near the stream ; and again, splash ! splash ! 

 they rushed through the shoal water beyond it 

 before turning up the brae that led to the wind- 



10 



