116 THE LIFE STORY OF AN OTTER 



the noise of strife, she saw the victor emerge 

 from the mist as he swam towards the spot 

 where she awaited him. Thus, by the discom- 

 fiture of the tyrant who had been the terror of 

 every young dog-otter on his rounds, the otter 

 won the little mate who was to share his lot. 



Happier than they were, two otters could not 

 be. Their close companionship proved it. Where 

 one was, there was the other. They fished in 

 company, they hovered together, and when they 

 journeyed to fresh fishing-grounds they travelled 

 side by side. A fortnight after they had paired 

 they made their way up the valley of the stream 

 that supplies the mere, and laid up in holts 

 known to the female otter. Three nights' fishing 

 and roaming brought them to the great quagmire 

 where the stream rises, which in summer is but 

 a thread of water winding through the waste of 

 cotton grasses that nod over it. All day they 

 lay asleep on dry couches in the heart of the 

 mire, and at dusk the female led over the high 

 ridge to the watershed that slopes to the northern 

 cliffs where she had been reared. The stream 

 they followed empties itself near a hamlet, and 

 there in the cove under the very windows they 

 fished until daybreak drove them to the cave 

 where they intended to hover. Shaking their 



