BY THE EXE. 123 



polled to emit from his lungs as he travels across to 

 another retreat shows his course on the surface, and 

 by the bubbles he is tracked as he goes deep below. 



He tries up the stream, and finds at the place where 

 i ledge of rocks crosses it eight or ten men armed with 

 long staves standing waiting for him. If there was 

 but one deep place at the side of the ledge of rocks he 

 could beat them still and slip by, but the water is low 

 for want of rain, and he is unable to do so. He turns 

 and tries at the sides of the river lower down. Behind 

 matted roots, and under the overhanging bank, with a 

 rocky fragment at one side, he faces his pursuers. 

 The hounds are snapped at as they approach in front. 

 He cannot be struck with a staff from above because 

 the bank covers him. Some one must wade across 

 and strike him with a pole till he moves, or carry a 

 terrier or two and pitch them in the hole, half above 

 and half under water. Next he tries the other bank, 

 then baffles all by doubling, till some one spies his 

 nostril as he comes up to breathe. The rocky hill at 

 hand resounds with the cries of the hounds, the sharp 

 bark of the terriers, the orders of the huntsman, and 

 the shouts of the others. There are ladies in the mead 

 by the river's edge watching the hunt. Met in every 

 direction, the otter swims down stream ; there are no 

 rocks there, he knows, but as he comes he finds a net 

 stretched across. He cannot go down the river for 

 the net, nor up it for the guarded ledge of rocks ; he 

 is enclosed in a pool without a chance of escape from 

 it, and all he can do is to prolong the unequal contest 

 to the last moment. Now he visits his former holes 

 or "hovers" to be again found out; now he rests 



