94 THE LIFE STORY OF AN OTTER 



end the season.' Then he lay down again on 

 the heather, raised the glass to his eye, and 

 turned it on the party with the hounds. ' The 

 squire and the passun, of coorse. Wonder if 

 church moosic or hound cry do stir un most. 

 " Everything in its season, Grylls," that would be 

 his answer, and said kindly. He is a good sort, 

 is the passun, and dearly loves a kill. And 

 theere's Doctor Jim, in his white hat. Lor' I he 

 ain't missed the Moor Pool meet for seven-and- 

 thirty year. Iss, seven-and- thirty year, Grylls, 

 and it's seven-and-thirty times you've sat where 

 you're sittin' now to the hour, and wellnigh to 

 the day, and ' — counting the notches on his 

 stick — ' it's nine otters you've seen killed on the 

 moor. Who can they be with the Doctor? 

 Strainyers, I reckon, stayin' at the big house 

 most like. Ah ! theere's Black Geordie, and the 

 keeper, and the landlord, and Tom " Burn the 

 Reed " walkin' with the bailiff hisself as large 

 as life and as brazen as Sally S trout at the 

 christenin'. Well, he's got a face, and no 

 mistake ! Wonder how many salmin he's took 

 out this turn.' 



Thus he lay and made his comments whilst 

 the party approached Moor Pool, but no sooner 

 did they reach the bank than his demeanour 



