138 THE LIFE STORY OF AN OTTER 



however they were there, and it occurred to 

 him he might dislodge them with a snowball. 

 Taking up a cake of snow that bore the impress 

 of his hobnailed soles, he made two balls, which 

 he hurled in quick succession through the open- 

 ing. The second was scarcely out of his hand 

 before he picked up the gun he had laid down, 

 and stood ready to shoot the animals as they 

 escaped ; but still no otter showed. * Not theere 

 after all, s'pose,' said he ; yet he advanced on 

 tiptoe to the tree, kicked it, and jumped back 

 with an agility that showed his expectations 

 were not quite exhausted. Again there was no 

 response : nothing stirred except the snow that 

 fell from the rickety crown. Then he walked up 

 to the tree, and peering through the crack, 

 examined the dusky shell from root to branch to 

 find nothing save an old nest with fish-bones on 

 the ground beside it. 



Convinced at last that the otters really were 

 not there, he proceeded to make a cast beyond 

 the island, using the gun to steady him as he 

 crossed some exposed ice to the snow. There 

 the sight of the trail brought home to him 

 his want of prevision, and threw him into a 

 rage. 



« Drat my stupid old head, why didn't I ring 



