Jean got her punishment, however, and so did Paterson.  Soon after their marriage, and when Jack’s hand was healed, he one day met a man-o’-war’s man who belonged to Stromness, and had been among the pressed men.  Jack heard from him of the cruise of the frigate, and of a fight with the enemy, and a great store of prize money that every man had shared.  That prize money was a sore lump in Jack’s throat ever afterwards.

While I was talking with Paterson in his cottage, my dog sat comfortably before the warm fire, the steam rising from her wet hair.  She did not appear to like leaving the cosy place; but when we had finished the meal, and I was once more dry and warm, I started off again in the pouring rain and the rising wind.

I did not wish to continue my fishing in such boisterous weather, but contemplated a hasty walk over to my uncle’s farm.  Our way lay westward in the face of the wind.  The walk over the wet peat moss was difficult and tiring, and when I reached the Ring of Brogar I was glad to avail myself of the shelter afforded by the giant Druid stones that stand and wait by the loch of Stenness.

All was desolation around:  not a house was to be seen, nor any living thing but my dog and a few wild birds that flew quickly past.  The only sounds were the beating of the rain and the distant roar of the Atlantic waves upon the coast.

A slight lull in the tempest urged me on, and soon I had left far behind me those mysterious old stones, that seemed through the misty rain to waken into life.  Like a procession of priests they appeared to pass with bent heads and slow and stately pace along the margin of the great stretch of water.

Crossing the swollen burn which connects the lochs of Cluny and Stenness, and thinking only of my destination, I was called back by a sharp bark from my dog.  I turned, and found her encountering a large otter that had been slipping down to the stream.  Now, I had the angler’s hatred of otters, which abounded in these waters.  Many a time had I seen a prime fish lying dead on the banks with a single bite taken out of the shoulder, and I looked upon the otter as the common poacher of the neighbourhood.  I went to the help of Selta, for the dog was crouched down ready to spring upon the otter when it should run out from behind the large stone where it had retreated.

I cautiously removed the stone, and the animal slipped downward towards the water.

“Now, now, Selta!” I exclaimed; and the dog made a rush at its prey.

The otter, thus intercepted, showed fight.  Selta made a snap at its back, and raised her forepaw to hold her enemy down.  The otter caught the foot in its mouth, and I heard the bones crunch in the vicious bite.  Selta lost hold and fell over the otter’s back; her foot was released; but the otter, bringing up its head between the dog’s front legs, grasped Selta’s throat with its sharp teeth.  With a piteous whine the dog tried to spring away, but her leg was too much broken to support her, and the two animals rolled over on the flat stone, the otter uppermost, still with its teeth in the dog’s throat.