WITH THE OTTER HOUNDS
A week or two had slipped away since Vane cut his hand. He lounged one
morning upon the terrace, chatting with Carroll. It was a heavy, black
morning; the hills were hidden by wrappings of leaden mist, and the still
air was charged with moisture.
Suddenly a long, faint howl came up the valley and was answered by
another in a deeper note. Then a confused swelling clamor broke out,
softened by the distance, and slightly resembling the sound of chiming
bells. Carroll stopped and listened.
"What in the name of wonder is that?" he asked. "The first of it reminded
me of a coyote howling, but the rest's more like the noise the timber
wolves make in the bush at night."
"You haven't made a bad shot," Vane laughed. "It's a pack of otter hounds
hot upon the scent."
The sound ceased as suddenly as it had begun; and a few moments later
Mabel came running toward the men.
"I knew the hounds met at Patten Brig, but Jim was sure they'd go
down-stream!" she cried breathlessly. "They're coming up! I think they're
at the pool below the village! Get two poles--you'll find some in the
tool-shed--and come along at once!"
She climbed into the house through a window, calling for Evelyn, and
Carroll smiled.
"We have our orders. I suppose we'd better go."
"It's one of the popular sports up here," Vane replied. "You may as
well see it."
They set out a few minutes later, accompanied by Evelyn, while Mabel
hurried on in front and reproached them for their tardiness. Sometimes
they heard the hounds, sometimes a hoarse shouting that traveled far
through the still air, and then sometimes there was only the tremulous
song of running water. At length, after crossing several wet fields, they
came to a rushy meadow on the edge of the river, which spread out into a
wide pool, fringed with alders which had not yet lost their leaves and
the barer withes of osiers. There was a swift stream at the head of it,
and a long rippling shallow at the tail; and scattered along the bank and
in the water was a curiously mixed company.
A red-coated man with whip and horn stood in the tail outflow, and three
or four more with poles in their hands were spread out across the stream
behind him. These, and one or two in the head stream, appeared by their
dress to belong to the hunt; but the rest, among whom were a few women,
were attired in every-day garments and were of different walks in life:
artisans, laborers, people of leisure, and a late tourist or two.
Three or four big hounds were swimming aimlessly up and down the pool; a
dozen more trotted to and fro along the water's edge, stopping to sniff
and give tongue in an uncertain manner now and then; but there was no
sign of an otter.
Carroll looked round with a smile when his companions stopped.
"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. Splashing 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 assisted 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 splashing 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 mass. 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 splashing 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."
"I believe I do," Evelyn confessed. "And you?"
"I'm afraid I'm not much of a sportsman, in this sense."
They watched with strained attention. The girl could not help it, though
she dreaded the climax. Her sympathies were now with the hard-pressed,
exhausted creature that was making a desperate fight for its life. The
pursuers were close upon it, the swimming dogs leading them; and ahead
lay a foaming rush of water which seemed less than a foot deep, with men
spread out across it. The shouting from the bank had ceased, and
everybody waited in tense expectancy when the otter disappeared. The dogs
reached the rapid, where they were washed back a few yards before they
could make headway up-stream. Men who came splashing close upon them left
the water to scramble along the bank; and then they stopped abruptly,
while the dogs swam in an uncertain manner about the still reach beyond.
They came out in a few minutes and scampered up and down among the
stones, evidently at fault, for there was no sign of the otter anywhere.
Incredible as it seemed, the hunted creature, an animal that would
probably weigh about twenty-four pounds, had crept up the rush of water
among the feet of those who watched for it and vanished unseen into the
sheltering depths beyond.
Evelyn sighed with relief.
"I think it will escape," she said. "The river's rather full after the
rain, which is against the dogs, and there isn't another shallow for some
distance. Shall we go on?"
They strolled forward behind the dogs, which were again moving up-stream;
but they turned aside to avoid a bit of woods, and it was some time later
when they came out upon a rocky promontory dropping steeply to the river.
Just there, the water flowed through a deep gorge, down the sides of
which great oaks and ashes straggled. In front of Carroll and his
companion a ragged face of rock fell about twenty feet; but there was a
little soil among the stones below, and a dense growth of alders
interspersed with willows, fringed the water's edge. The stream swirled
in deep black eddies beneath their drooping branches, though a little
farther on it poured tumultuously between scattered boulders into the
slacker pool. The rock sloped on one side, and there was a bank of
underbrush near the foot of the descent.
The hunt was now widely scattered about the reach. Men crept along
slippery ledges above the water and moved over dangerously slanting
slopes, half hidden among the trees; a few were in the river. Three or
four of the dogs were swimming; the others, spread out in twos and
threes, trotted in and out among the undergrowth.
Presently, a figure creeping along the foot of the rock not far away
seized Carroll's attention.
"It's Mopsy!" he exclaimed. "The foothold doesn't look very safe among
those stones, and there seems to be deep water below."
He called out in warning, but the girl did not heed. The willows were
thinner at the spot she had reached, and, squeezing herself through them,
she leaned down, clinging to an alder branch.
"He's gone to holt among the roots!" she cried.
Three or four men running along the opposite bank apparently decided that
she was right, for the horn was sounded and here and there a dog broke
through the underbrush. Just as the first-comers reached the rapid, there
was a splash. It was a moment or two before Evelyn or Carroll, who had
been watching the dogs, realized what had happened; then the blood ebbed
from the girl's face. Mabel had disappeared.
Running a few paces forward, Carroll saw what looked like a bundle of
outspread garments swing round in an eddy. It washed in among the
willows, and he heard a faint cry.
"Help!--Quick! I've caught a branch!"
He could not see the girl now, but an alder branch was bending sharply,
and he flung a rapid glance around him. The summit of the rock on which
he stood rose above the trees. Had there been a better landing, he would
have faced the risky fall, but it seemed impossible to alight among the
stones without a broken leg. Even if he came down uninjured, there was a
barrier of tangled branches and densely growing withes between him and
the river, and the opening through which Mabel had fallen was some
distance away. Farther down-stream, he might reach the water by a
reckless jump, as the promontory sloped toward it there, but he would not
be able to swim back against the current. His position was a painful one;
there was nothing that he could do.
The next moment, men and dogs went scrambling and swimming down the
rapid. They were in hot pursuit of the otter, which had left its
hiding place, and it was evident that the girl, clinging to a branch
beneath the willows, had escaped their attention. Carroll shouted
savagely as his comrade appeared among the tail of the hunt below. The
others were too much occupied to heed; or perhaps they concluded that
he was urging them on.
"Help! Mabel!" Carroll shouted again and again, gesticulating wildly in
his desperation.
Vane, waist-deep in the water, seemed to catch the girl's name and
understand. In a few moments he was swimming down the pool along the edge
of the alders. Then Carroll saw that Evelyn expected him to take some
part in the rescue.
"Get down before it's too late!" she cried.
Carroll spread out his hands, as if to beg her forbearance. While every
impulse urged him to the leap, he endeavored to keep his head. He fancied
that he would be wanted later, and it was obvious that he would not be
available if he lay upon the rocks below with broken bones.
"I can't do any good just now," he tried to explain, knowing that he was
right and yet feeling horribly ashamed. "She's holding on, and Wallace
will reach her in a moment or two."
Evelyn broke out at him in an agony of fear and anger.
"You coward! Will you let her drown?"
She turned and ran forward, but Carroll, dreading that she meant to
attempt the descent, seized her shoulder and held her fast. While he
grappled with her, Vane's voice rose from below, and he let his
hands drop.
"Wallace has her. There's no more danger," he said quietly.
Evelyn suddenly recovered a small degree of calm. Even amid the stress of
her terror, she recognized the assurance in the man's tone. He had blind
confidence in his comrade's prowess, and his next words made this
impression clearer.
"Don't be afraid. He'll never let go until he brings her out."
Standing, breathless, a pace or two apart, they saw Vane and the girl
appear from beneath the willows and wash away down-stream. The man was
swimming, but he was hampered by his burden, and once he and Mabel sank
almost from sight in a whirling eddy. Carroll said nothing. Turning, he
ran along the sloping ridge until the fall was less and the trees were
thinner; then he leaped out into the air. He broke through the alders
amid a rustle of bending boughs, and disappeared; but a moment or two
later his shoulders shot out of the water close beside Vane, and the two
men went down the stream with Mabel between them.
Evelyn scrambled wildly along the ridge, and when she reached the foot of
it, Vane was helping Mabel up the sloping bank of gravel. The girl's
drenched garments clung about her, and her wet hair was streaked across
her face, but she seemed able to stand. The hunt had swept on through
shoaler water, but there was a cheer from the stragglers across the
river. Evelyn clutched her sister, half laughing, half sobbing, and
incoherently upbraided her. Mabel shook herself free, and her first
remark was characteristic.
"Oh, don't make a silly fuss! I'm only wet through. Wallace, take me
home."
She tried to shake out her dripping skirt, and Vane picked her up, as she
seemed to expect it. The others followed when he pushed through the
underbrush toward a neighboring meadow. Evelyn, however, was still a
little unnerved, and when they reached a gap in a wall she stopped and
leaned heavily against the stones.
"I think I'm more disturbed than Mopsy is," she said to Carroll. "What I
felt must be some excuse for me. You were right, of course. I'm sorry
for what I said; it was unjustifiable."
Carroll laughed lightly.
"Anyway, it was perfectly natural; but I must confess that I felt some
temptation to make a spectacular fool of myself. I might have jumped into
those alders, but it's most unlikely that I could have got out of them."
Evelyn looked at him with a new respect. He had not troubled to point
out that he had not flinched from the jump when it seemed likely to be
of service.
"How could you have the sense to think of that?" she asked.
"I suppose it's a matter of practise. One can't work among the ranges and
rivers without learning to make the right decision rapidly. When you
don't, you get badly hurt. With most of us, the thing has to be
cultivated; it's not instinctive."
Evelyn was struck by the explanation. This acquired coolness was a finer
thing, and undoubtedly more useful, than hot-headed gallantry, though she
admired the latter. She was young, and physical prowess appealed to her;
besides, it had been displayed in saving her sister's life. Carroll and
his comrade were men of varied and romantic experience; and they
possessed, she fancied, qualities not shared by all their fellows.
"Wallace was splendid in the water!" she exclaimed, uttering part of her
thoughts aloud.
"I thought rather more of him in the city," Carroll replied. "That kind
of thing was new to him, and I'm inclined to believe that I'd have let
the people he had to negotiate with have the mine for a good deal less
than he eventually got for it. But I've said something about that before;
and, after all, I'm not here to play Boswell."
The girl was surprised at the apt allusion; it was not what she would
have expected from the man. As she had not wholly recovered her
composure, she forgot what Vane had told her about him, and her comment
was an incautious one:
"How did you hear of him?"
Carroll parried this with a smile.
"You don't suppose you can keep those old fellows to yourselves--they're
international. But hadn't we better be getting on? Let me help you
through the gap."
They reached the Dene some time later, and Mabel, very much against her
wishes, was sent to bed. Shortly afterward Carroll came across Vane, who
had changed his clothes and was strolling up and down among the
shrubberies.
"What are you doing here?" he asked.
Vane looked embarrassed.
"For one thing, I'm keeping out of Mrs. Chisholm's way; she's inclined to
be effusive. For another, I'm trying to think out what I ought to do.
We'll have to pull out very shortly; and I had meant to have an interview
with Evelyn to-day. That's why I feel uncommonly annoyed with Mopsy for
falling in."
Carroll made a grimace.
"If that's how it strikes you, any advice I could offer would be wasted.
A sensible man would consider it a promising opportunity."
"And trade upon it? As you know, there wasn't the slightest risk,
with branches that one could get hold of, and a shelving bank almost
within reach."
"Do you really want the girl?"
"That impression's firmly in my mind," Vane said curtly.
"Then you'd better pitch your Quixotic notions overboard and tell her
so."
Vane frowned but made no answer; and Carroll, recognizing that his
comrade was not inclined to be communicative, left him pacing up and
down.