74 THE LIFE STORY OF AN OTTER 



swept moor. On, on the untiring creatures sped, 

 more like agents of darkness executing some 

 urgent commission than beasts of prey speeding 

 to a new fishing-ground. Mile after mile of the 

 desolate upland they traversed : at one spot 

 skirting a cairn whence came that weirdest of all 

 wild cries, the shrill chattering of badgers ; at 

 another, passing the only road over the moor, 

 where they left their footprints between the 

 fresh wheel-marks of the doctor's trap. A sleep- 

 ing hamlet rose almost in their path, and so close 

 did they approach that they heard the creaking 

 of the signboard of the Druid's Arms, about 

 which the cottages cluster. Then over wall after 

 wall they clambered as they came to the crofters' 

 holdings, reached the lodge of the keeper who 

 had been the otter's terror when her cubs were 

 helpless, gained the edge of the moorland above 

 the old nursery, made their way down the very 

 gully along which the hounds had followed the 

 fox and, leaping the stream close to the hover, 

 came out on the salmon pool beyond the 

 poplar. 



Eager to see whether the pool held a fish, the 

 otter slipped into the water and swam to the 

 favourite lie near the foot of the fall. A salmon 

 was there, and towards it she advanced so swiftly 



