To Mountain Tarn 



or other of the many mills. The hounds scattered 

 to their work, each acting for itself, and along 

 with the rest. Little crowding or overlapping 

 was there. Some kept on the grass, to pick up 

 the scent of any otter that may have come up 

 that way, from its favourite fishing-ground, in the 

 early morning. One swam under the far bank, 

 brushing the long floating grasses, and plashing 

 through many sedges. While heads showed 

 above water, ploughing the pool to reach the 

 hither side. When the long silence told no tales, 

 and the lack of events was blunting the keenness 

 of the hounds, the huntsman's horn brought the 

 pack together. 



No hiding-place so cunning as to escape their 

 search : the noses were everywhere. The un- 

 rehearsed incidents of the hunt were interesting. 

 Ousted from her moist retreat, the water-hen rose 

 heavily, and, with trailing, dripping legs, passed 

 over the water. On the ridge behind, scurrying 

 rabbits were silhouetted against the sky. To the 

 imagination was left, to picture the confusion of 

 startled trout underneath. 



Beyond the meeting of the waters, the full 

 stream entered beneath the trees. The next 

 half-mile was den. A den is a narrow strath, 

 where the banks sharply, sometimes abruptly, 

 slope, and are more or less wooded. No den 

 can be more delightful than those of the Eden. 

 Nor any Eden den than this. Broken by pro- 

 p 209 



