“This sudden departure of the terrible mink made the two youngsters feel almost bigger than was good for them.  But the otter, fortunately, is born cautious, no matter how courageous he may be.  So the youngsters were not spoiled by their good luck.  They waited a few minutes, to give the mink a chance to get good and far away.  Then they dived forth into the misty pool.  Never before had they seen one quarter so many fish in it.  They breakfasted very well on a couple of plump, silvery chub—­though they would have preferred trout, of course—­and then, just for sport, began killing as many as they could, only swallowing a bite out of each, from the thick, flaky meat behind the head.  They were young, you see—­though not more foolish than lots of sportsmen we hear about.  In a very few minutes, of course, every fish that could get away had got away as far as possible from that deadly pool.  And then the two reckless fishermen crawled ashore and began a tug of war with a stick.  They could just not help playing, you see, any more than kittens or puppies could; though they were still lonely and anxious.  And in their play they kept very close to the water’s edge, in case the fox should happen along to inquire after their parents.

“The fox did not turn up.  But after some time they caught sight of a great, dark bird winnowing his way slowly above the tree tops.  Just to be on the safe side, they got into the water so quickly that one of them, to save time, threw himself in backwards.  They did not know that it was only a fishhawk, an amiable soul, quite indifferent to such delicacies as young otters.  Another thing they did not know was that if the fishhawk had wanted them, he could have caught them more comfortably in the water than on shore.

“When the great bird was well out of sight they started off down stream, partly to have another look for their lost parents, partly because they had nothing better to do.  But they did not go very far that day, or have any more very exciting adventures.  They spent most of their time in the water, where they had no foe to watch out for except the mink.  And, as the fish had now learned to beware of them, they had enough to do in satisfying their lively appetites.  That night they slept in the den, lying close to the water’s edge, lest the fox should come.  And they had no visitors.

“The next day they were feeling more confident, more sure of themselves.  So they set out on a longer expedition.  In the course of the morning they killed a big muskrat, after a sharp fight, and felt terribly proud of themselves.  They got bitten, of course, and had their fur all mussed up, so it meant a long, elaborate toilet in the warm grass by the water’s edge.  And it was not till early in the afternoon that they came once more to the fateful slide where their parents had so mysteriously vanished.