A RACE FOR LIFE
When life’s at stake ’tis no disgrace
To run from what you dare not face.
_Little Joe Otter._
Little Joe Otter and his family had traveled many miles from the
Laughing Brook on their way to that other brook where Little Joe was
sure they would find better fishing. They had left a deep trail through
the snow. It happened that this trail was found by an old trapper, who
was tramping through the woods.
“Traveling Otter!” he exclaimed, as soon as he saw that trail. Then he
examined the trail very carefully. “More than one has been along here,”
he decided. “What is more, those Otters are not very far ahead of me.
This trail is very fresh. They’re heading straight for the pond just
beyond the next ridge. Otter fur brings high prices these days. If I can
catch up with them, I may be able to get a skin or two.”
He looked around for a stout club, and as soon as he had found one to
suit him he hurried along that trail. He guessed that those Otters were
not hurrying. He hoped that if he could get near enough before he was
discovered, he would be able to outrun one or two of them. So he hurried
on as fast as he could, taking the greatest care to make as little noise
as possible.
Little Joe, Mrs. Joe and the two young Otters had almost reached the
pond when Little Joe’s ears caught a sound that caused him to stop and
look back along their trail. He saw that man running. He recognized him
instantly as one of those two-legged creatures called men, the only
enemies Little Joe really feared. “We must run for our lives!” he cried
and led the way, breaking the path through the snow.
Then began a race for life. Little Joe knew that if that man caught up
with them, they would have no chance for their lives. He knew all about
that pond just ahead. He knew that at one end there were springs and
that when all the rest of the pond was covered with ice, there usually
was open water above those springs. If they could reach open water they
would be safe.
Such a race as that was! Though the Otters did their best, they could
not travel as fast through the snow as the man. He gained on them with
every step. How thankful Little Joe and Mrs. Joe were that he had no
terrible gun. Had he carried a terrible gun they would have had no
chance at all. But even without a terrible gun he would surely kill them
all unless they could reach that open water.
Through the trees they saw the black, smooth ice of that pond just ahead
of them. They bounded and plunged ahead with all their strength. Little
Joe was ahead to break the way through the snow. Then came the two young
Otters, and Mrs. Joe was last. That trapper was almost within striking
distance as she sprang out on to the ice. Out there the Otters could
travel faster than the trapper. They would make several bounds forward
and then throw themselves on their stomachs and slide. It was surprising
how fast they traveled over that ice. But the trapper couldn’t run fast
on the ice. It was too slippery. He did his best, but he fell farther
and farther behind. Finally he threw his club at Mrs. Joe. It just
missed her. A minute later, one after another, Little Joe and his family
disappeared in the open water. They had won their race for life.