142 THE LIFE STORY OF AN OTTER 



Only a cat could follow where the otters had 

 climbed ; so he made his way back to the creek 

 and clambered up the high bank to the wind- 

 swept ridge leading to the cliffs. A forlorn 

 figure the old man looked as he fought his way 

 in the teeth of the gale to the brink of the 

 precipice, only to find the trail end on a slab of 

 rock, from which the spray had washed some of 

 the snow that covered it. 



1 It's all up,' he said, turning his eyes to the 

 great pile of loose rocks farther along the cliff; 

 ■ they're gone to clitter. Now, old fool, goest 

 home along.' 



After a glance at the sea, on which not a sail 

 or a wing showed, he made his way to the point 

 of the bluff above the mere, and letting himself 

 carefully over the edge, succeeded by clinging to 

 rock and tussock in making the descent without 

 mishap. At the foot he stood awhile to rest ; 

 then, presently, set out across the snowfield for 

 the cottage, his thoughts full of the otter, which 

 however he had given up all hope of getting. 



So convinced was he that the creatures were 

 in the cliff that he attached no importance to the 

 trail he stumbled on in the midst of the mere, till 

 he came to the spot where the tracks forked ; but 

 there he awoke to the significance of the situation. 



