90 THE LIFE STORY OF AN OTTER 



with the skull and, leaving it where he found 

 it, he made along the rocks towards the spot 

 where the precipice rises almost sheer from the 

 tarn, and began to scour the face of the cliff. 

 He seemed as surefooted as a marten, and never 

 once slipped or stumbled as he dropped from 

 shelf to shelf whose scanty width in places all 

 but denied foothold. Three times he made the 

 descent, leaping from ledge to ledge like the 

 overflow rushing down the hillside ; but, unlike 

 the stream, he leaped in silence, save for the 

 muffled thud of his spongy feet as they struck 

 the rock on landing. The last time he dived, 

 rose at the end of a long swim by the boulder 

 flanking the outlet, climbed to the top, and lay 

 down at full length. The water ran from his 

 unshaken coat, leaving it smooth and refulgent 

 in the moonlight, as he reposed there gazing at 

 the windings of the river on the plain below. 

 Soon however the restless creature rose and 

 plunged again into the tarn, where he gambolled, 

 partly on the surface, but chiefly beneath amongst 

 the currents that well up from the unfathomed 

 depths. And so the hours sped till, when the 

 moon had set and the stars wellnigh paled, 

 he gave over disporting himself and swam to- 

 wards his lair. On the way thither, forgetting 



