Hands held and guided the terrier past the outside root. Tarquol tissed
again as the dim light darkened with the shape of the enemy, whose
scent was on the hair of Tarka's neck. Bite'm whined and yapped, trying
to struggle up to the otters. His hind feet slipped off the roots, and
he fell into the water below. _Plomp, plomp, plomp_, as he trod water,
trying to scramble up the side.
Again the opening grew dark with arms holding and guiding another
terrier, and Biff began to climb. _Wough! wough! wough!_ Soon she
fell into the water. The terriers were called off. Tarka settled more
easily, but Tarquol could not rest. Hounds and terriers were gone, but
still the voices of men were heard. The sound was low and regular, and
Tarka's eyes closed. Tarquol quatted beside him, and for many minutes
neither moved. Then the murmur of voices ceased with footfalls along
the bank, coming nearer, and stopping above. A man climbed down the
bank and slid feet first into the water; the chalky light was reflected
in at the opening. An arm was thrust in, and the wrist-jerk sent a
handful of small pieces of rock into the holt. The pieces hissed when
they met the water, and gave off streams of bubbles. The otters gazed
down at them. The man moved away from the holt, and his friends hauled
him to the top of the bank.
Silence, except for the hissing and bubbling in the holt. The otters
were immobile in curiosity. Neither Tarka nor Tarquol thought of the
strange bubbling as an act of the man. Often they had seen bubbles
arising from the holes of eels and ragworms in mud. Sometimes in
solitary underwater play they had blown bubbles, and tried to bite them
before they broke at the surface. Tarka and Tarquol moved lower along
a root to be nearer the strange bubbles. Tarka was lower than the cub,
near the water, when he started and sprang as though trapped, gave a
retching cough, and tumbled into the water. Tarquol tissed with fright,
gaped when he breathed the acetylene gas, and followed Tarka out of the
holt. He saw Tarka's chain rising bright before him. He turned upstream
and was alone.
Seventy yards from the holt he rose under the bank to rest, and heard
the baying of hounds. He dived again and went on upstream at his
greatest speed. At his next vent he knew that the terrible beasts were
following him. He swam out of the pool, turned back again, saw their
heads in the water from bank to bank, became scared, and left the river.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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