CHAPTER Xll 



THE LONG TRAIL 



It was 'betwixt the lights,' as he would have 

 said, when the miller closed the door quietly 

 behind him and made his way among the nut- 

 bushes to the ford where his search for the otter 

 usually began. No track marked the ground by 

 the water's edge, nor was there a sign on any 

 of the likely spots all the way to the stranded 

 alder, where he sat to rest awhile before resuming 

 his beat. The pine-tops were then aglow and 

 the birds in full song, but they meant nothing to 

 him in the mood he was in ; his thoughts, as his 

 words showed, were all for the otter. 



'Not a trace. Pools full of fish, too, and 

 everythin' as keenly as can be. Yet I'm sure 

 he's up, and sartin he'll be spurred afore the 

 day's much older. Wonder who'll be the lucky 

 man?' 



At the thought of his rivals he sprang to his 

 feet and soon had reached the precipitous bank 

 above the shelving strand where, though so many 

 landing-places were undisturbed, he had every 



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