58 WOODLAND, MOOR, AND STREAM 



When the harvest-moon floods the river and trees 

 with light, and his day's fishing is over, the otter plays 

 about in the meadows bordering the river-side to his 

 heart's content. Where the steep sides of the hill 

 called the Whites shoot down to the river, he is at 

 home. Gnarled roots and fallen trees find him a safe 

 refuge. The hill-side is claimed by the fox and 

 badger, but the river is the domain of the otter ; he 

 holds his own there, and is likely to do for many a 

 dav to come. 



