Part 20 (1/2)

”It strikes me there'll be very little work done in this neighborhood to-day,” he remarked. ”I'd no idea there were so many people in the valley with time to spare. The only thing that's missing is the beast they're after.”

”An otter is an almost invisible creature,” Evelyn explained. ”You very seldom see one, unless it's hard pressed by the dogs. There are a good many in the river, but even the trout fishers, who are about at sunrise in the hot weather and wade in the dusk, rarely come across them. Are you going to take a share in the hunt?”

”No,” replied Carroll, glancing humorously at his pole. ”I don't know why I brought this thing, unless it was because Mopsy sent me for it.

I'd rather stay and watch with you. Splas.h.i.+ng through a river after a little beast that I don't suppose they'd let an outsider kill doesn't interest me. I don't see why I should want to kill it, anyway. Some of you English people have sporting ideas I can't understand. I struck a young man the other day--a well-educated man by the looks of him--who was spending the afternoon happily with a ferret by a corn stack, killing rats with a club. He seemed uncommonly pleased with himself because he'd got four of them.”

”Oh,” chided Mabel, ”you're as bad as the silly people who call killing things cruel! I wouldn't have thought it of you!”

Vane laughed.

”I've seen him drop a deer with a single-shot rifle when it was going through thick brush almost as fast as a locomotive; and I believe that he once a.s.sisted in killing a panther in a thicket where you couldn't see two yards ahead. The point is that he meant to eat the deer--and the panther had been taking a rancher's hogs.”

”I'm sorry I brought him,” Mabel pouted. ”He's not a sportsman.”

”I really think there's some excuse for the more vigorous sports,” Evelyn maintained. ”Of course, you can't eliminate a certain amount of cruelty; but, admitting that, isn't it just as well that men who live in a luxurious civilization should be willing to plod through miles of heather after grouse, risk their limbs on horseback, or spend hours in cold water? These are bracing things; they imply some moral discipline. It really can't be nice to ride at a dangerous fence, or to flounder down a rapid after an otter when you're stiff with cold. The effort to do so must be wholesome.”

”A sure thing,” Carroll agreed. ”The only trouble is that when you've got your fox or otter, it isn't worth anything. A good many of the people in the newer lands, every day, have to make something of the kind of effort you describe. In their case, the results are wagon trails, valleys cleared for orchards, or new branch railroads. I suppose it's a matter of opinion, but if I'd put in a season's risky work, I'd rather have a piece of land to grow fruit on or a share in a mineral claim--you get plenty of excitement in prospecting for that--than a fox's tail.”

He strolled along the bank with Evelyn, following the hunt up-stream.

Suddenly he looked around.

”Mopsy's gone; and I don't see Vane.”

”After all, he's one of us,” Evelyn laughed. ”If you're born in the North Country, it's hard to keep out of the river when you hear the otter hounds.”

”But Mopsy's not going in!”

”I'm afraid I can't answer for her.”

They took up their station behind a growth of alders, and for a while the dogs went trotting by in twos and threes or swam about the pool, but nothing else broke the surface of the leaden-colored water. Then there was a cry, an outbreak of shouting, a confused baying, and half a dozen hounds dashed past. More followed, heading up-stream along the bank, with a tiny brown terrier panting behind them. Evelyn stretched out her hand.

”Look!”

Carroll saw a small gray spot--the top of the otter's head--moving across the slacker part of the pool, with a very slight, wedge-shaped ripple trailing away from it. It sank the next moment; a bubble or two rose; and then there was nothing but the smooth flow of water.

A horn called shrilly; a few whip-cracks rang out like pistol-shots; and the dogs took the water, swimming slowly here and there. Men scrambled along the bank. Some, entering the river, reinforced the line spread out across the head rapid while others joined the second row wading steadily up-stream and splas.h.i.+ng about as they advanced with iron-tipped poles.

Nothing rewarded their efforts. The dogs suddenly turned and went down-stream; and then everybody ran or waded toward the tail outflow. A clamor of shouting and baying broke out; and floundering men and swimming dogs went down the stream together in a confused ma.s.s. There was a brief silence. The hounds came out and trotted to and fro along the bank; and dripping men clambered after them.

Evelyn laughed as she pointed to Vane among the leading group. He looked even wetter than the others.

”I don't suppose he meant to go in. It's in the blood.”

”There's no reason why he shouldn't, if it amuses him,” Carroll replied.

”When I first met him, he'd have been more careful of his clothes.”

A little later the dogs were driven in again, and this time the whole of the otter's head was visible as it swam up-stream. The animal was flagging, and on reaching shoaler water it sprang out altogether now and then, rising and falling in the stronger stream with a curious serpentine motion. In fact, as head and body bent in the same sinuous curves, it looked less like an animal than a plunging fish. The men guarding the rapid stood ready with their poles, and more were wading and splas.h.i.+ng up both sides of the pool. The otter's pace was getting slower; sometimes it seemed to stop; and now and then it vanished among the ripples. Carroll saw that Evelyn's face was intent, though there were signs of shrinking in it.

”I'll tell you what you are thinking,” he said. ”You want that poor little beast to get away.”