TRACKERS' REPUTATION LOST 163 



have his meals at the kennels and to sleep in the 

 loft. 



But the otter's plans ran counter to the hopes 

 and expectations of his enemies. On the third 

 day after the discovery of his tracks he forsook 

 the moorland for the creek, where he feasted on 

 mussels and flounders till he tired of them. Then 

 he made down the estuary to the headland ; he 

 robbed the trammels and spillers of the choicest 

 fish, and on one occasion actually took a bass 

 off a whiffing-line. 



Thus another month passed, by the end of 

 which the trackers who had stood so high in the 

 estimation of their neighbours began to be made 

 slight of, and even to be laughed at. Right 

 welcome to them were the heavy rains that 

 rendered river and streams unfit for hunting and 

 furnished a sound excuse for discontinuing the 

 hopeless quest. The flood was indeed a big one, 

 as the mark on the door of the miller's stable 

 testifies. To this day the old men at the port 

 will tell you they never before knew the sea 

 stained to such a distance by the peaty water, 

 adding in the same breath that the run of fish 

 was « a sight to see.' 



Harbour and estuary seemed alive as the 

 salmon made their way up the river: people 



21—2 



