FAMINE 127 



A bitter wind swept the waste, but they held 

 on in the teeth of it, crossed the frozen pools, and 

 headed for the mere. On reaching it the female 

 otter made straight for the nest, where she lay- 

 oppressed with the dread of famine, till fatigue 

 had its way and sleep made her deaf to the 

 plaints of her unfed cubs. At dusk she and her 

 mate foraged alongshore and found a few limpets, 

 on which they managed to keep themselves and 

 the whelps from starving until the supply failed. 

 Then the little mother, driven to extremity, 

 dulled the gnawing pangs of hunger with seaweed. 



To the famine under which parents and whelps 

 were wasting was presently added the outlawed 

 creature's most treacherous enemy — a fall of 

 snow. It began one morning soon after they 

 had sought their couches, and did not cease until 

 a thick covering lay on the marsh and on the 

 hills about it. That night the otters again 

 foraged along the coast, but nothing passed their 

 lips save a few more limpets and a little water 

 from the runnel which still trickled in the cave 

 behind the clitter. Yet, distressed as they were, 

 they rolled and gambolled on the snow in the 

 heart of the mere, whence the tell-tale trails 

 diverged, ready to betray their whereabouts to 

 the first comer. Some hours later, however, 



