From Fox's Earth 



with the long morning shadows, the swift run, the 

 black mysterious holes under the roots. The 

 spray and shadow lie on the spirit for a week to 

 freshen the dryness and soften the glare. 



Then there is the absolute fair play. It is ever 

 so much better than a tart benevolence, and lends 

 a much-needed robustness to an enervated con- 

 science. That lad behind the boulder may have 

 been peppering a frog, which could not get away ; 

 or torturing a field vole, or crushing a brood of 

 downy nestlings. Compare the dealings between 

 man and otter, to that of man with man. The 

 hunter, so full of enthusiasm for playing the 

 game, may have been outwitting a fellow-being 

 in one of the recognized ways. If but the spray 

 of the streamside were brought to play, the game 

 of life would be as fresh, interesting, and manly 

 again. 



Were the animal consulted, it might have less 

 to complain of than its self-appointed advocates. 

 The chase breaks the monotony, the too dreamy 

 flow of a streamside existence. To be hunted is 

 just the other side of hunting, and lends the con- 

 trast, which puts a sharper edge on life. Slumber- 

 ing powers are called into play, to add to the sum 

 of its activities. The otter, on the trail of the 

 salmon, would be ever so much poorer but for 

 the otter in its holt, listening to the hounds on 

 the far bank, with a track of scentless stream 

 between, and deciding on the next move. 



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