And now I saw my first chance of interfering.  I grasped the otter by the back, and tried to drag it away.  I had no boots on my feet, or I might have used them.  All I could do was to plant my foot on the animal’s back, and stand with all my weight upon it.  The otter thereat turned savagely upon me, and, unfortunately for myself, not even the possession of the viking’s charm could save me from those sharp teeth.

With a fierce snarl the otter took hold of the back of my ankle, its teeth penetrating the skin and tearing it over.  I had sense to bend down and grasp the animal with my hands and rapidly snap its backbone, finishing my work by dashing a heavy stone upon its head.  Forgetting my own hurt, I then turned to look after my dog.

Selta was lying upon the wet stone, the blood trickling from her throbbing neck.  I knelt down beside my faithful companion, and took the injured foot in my hand.  The dog had strength only to raise her head in recognition, with a mournful look in her pleading eyes.

“My poor doggie!” I moaned, utterly cast down; and my falling tears were mingled with Selta’s blood.  The dog was dead.

Chapter XVII.  How The Golden Rule Was Kept.

My first thought on leaving the scene of this combat was to let the dead otter lie where it had fallen; but I remembered that young Thora Kinlay had once in my hearing expressed a wish to have an otter’s skin, of which to make a pair of gloves, and I determined to make use of the animal I had killed.  But I could not carry both the otter and my poor Selta, whom I had already determined to lay to rest in the sea, and my only course was to strip the otter of its skin then and there.  This I did with help of my pocketknife, and in spite of the heavy rain that poured in streams down my back.

You will imagine the physical discomforts of my further journey.  The ground was marshy and sodden, and I sank deep into it at every step I took.  My clothing was wet through and through, and my dog, which I carried over my shoulder, was a burden so heavy and inconvenient that only my love for my late companion and respect for her lifeless body gave me sufficient strength to bear it for so great a distance.  And then the rain fell incessantly, and the wind was full in my face.

Carver Kinlay’s farm of Crua Breck was on my way to my uncle’s, and I thought I would stay there a few moments as I passed, to leave the otter skin for Thora, and maybe get shelter and a drink of warm milk.  But not till I was almost at the door did I remember about my recent fight with Tom.

In its exposed position on the bleak hillside the farmstead felt the full force of the gale as it beat in fury against the front of the house.  The rain and the salt spray from the sea pelted upon the windows, and laid low all Thora’s flowers in the little garden.  The large fuchsia bush, which in summertime dangled its drooping blossoms in rich profusion, seemed the only plant capable of withstanding the rough blast; and the great gaunt jaws of the Greenland whale, that formed an archway at the gate, trembled in the tempest.