2i6 UPON A DAY 



almost hidden by the trurtk, he knows he is safe from 

 discovery, for the breeze is blowing in his face. 

 Nearer and nearer comes the whistling sound, and 

 then for a minute all is still. Presently round a 

 corner of the stream comes, not the otter, to all 

 appearance, but a wave ; the otter is swimming under 

 the water. But now he is out upon a shallow, a 

 beautiful picture of activity and strength. In his flat 

 head, his powerful jaw, and his muscular shoulder there 

 is expressed, not cunning so much, perhaps, as pre- 

 cision and secrecy. If I wanted an agent to do me 

 some dark deed, I would choose, not the fox, I think, 

 but the otter. He would travel like a very power of 

 darkness, swiftly, secretly, and strike as surely as the 

 vendetta, not one single second too early or too late. 

 When he is on the hunt he has no need to chase the 

 fish ; he can scent them, even from the bank, and, 

 slipping into the water without a sound, is upon them 

 before they are aware. And our otter now has slipped 

 into the water, and is coming quickly down stream, 

 but with no more sound than if he were swimming in 

 oil. He emerges directly under the roots of the third 

 cedar ; a moment's pause, and in a single bound he is 

 up among the roots and out of sight. And now, if you 

 look closely, you may see a large dark hole, well 



