THE LIFELESS TARN 87 



the strangely contrasted shores that encompass 

 it, for the sheet of water lies sullen and mono- 

 tonous between precipitous rocks and a beach of 

 grey shingle. No islet rears its head above the 

 surface ; no line of flotsam marks the shelving 

 strand. The wanderer had come out on the 

 shingly beach, and after sniffing the water he 

 trotted leisurely along its edge, and presently 

 descried a small bed of reeds, till then hidden by 

 a rocky headland. Gladdened by the discovery, 

 he mended his pace, yet kept surveying the tarn, 

 doubtless on the lookout for signs of prey. A 

 wave in the shallows, a splash, or even a dimple, 

 any break of the water, would have betrayed the 

 presence of some finny inhabitant, of which, how- 

 ever, his nose had given him no hint ; but the 

 surface had no message for him. Neither was 

 there a single wild-fowl ; there was no animal of 

 any sort. At the far end, however, and almost 

 in his path as he made the circuit of the pool, lay 

 the skeleton of a giant pike. Though the ver- 

 tebrae had dropped into crannies between the 

 stones, the bleached skull, its open jaws bristling 

 with teeth, was the most conspicuous object on 

 that desolate shore. Yet dry bones apparently 

 had no more interest for him than the newly 

 risen moon, for he passed on and clambered 



