To Mountain Tarn 



to see that space and law are lent to every hunted 

 animal. In no contest is it considered good form 

 to go within the ropes, or in any way hamper 

 either combatant. And it is conceivable that the 

 presence of woman would help in this matter. 

 She might even stand in the water while mere 

 man blocked the islet paths and helped to give 

 the otter away to the dogs. 



A second otter was started. She did not suffer 

 herself to be crowded to death. After a few turns 

 over the islet, she took to the water. A resource- 

 ful brute, she showed the chase some of the secrets. 

 She was game, and kept the hounds at bay among 

 the sedges. Then she made down the stream, 

 and died in deep water, as an otter should. It 

 was a hounds' day, and therefore not a barren 

 one. The otter's turn would come ; the triumph 

 of wild instincts over training. 



To those who looked on, that pool where the 

 day's work closed will never be the same again. 

 Nor will the Eden regain its old placid and un- 

 eventful flow. The eye will wander from the 

 lazy current where the trout freshen their gills, 

 and the still water where they fatten, to that dark 

 hole beneath the bank, the islet stronghold beyond 

 the fretting channel and the tail of the mill-rush, 

 where the otter comes at even in hope of a big 

 capture. 



On the stream are three reaches of mammal 

 life. Not sharply marked but overlapping. The 



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