passed deep down into the clear,
unruffled pool, hurriedly using every limb, instead of only his
hind-legs, and with quick strokes gained the edge of the current, where
for an instant he rose to breathe before plunging deep once more and
continuing his journey towards the willows on the opposite bank. As he
dived for the second time, Bob saw him among the ripples, and with
shrill voice headed the clamouring hounds, that, "harking forward" to
his cry, rushed headlong in pursuit through shallow and pool. A stout,
lichen-covered branch, weighed down at the river's edge by a mass of
herbage borne thither by a recent heavy flood, occupied a corner in the
dense shadow of an alder; and the vole, climbing out of the water, sat
on it, and was hidden completely by the darkness from the eager hounds.
But his sanctuary was soon invaded; the indefatigable terrier, guided by
the tiny bubbles of scent borne down by the stream, left the river, and
ran, whimpering with excitement, straight to the alder. Brighteye saw
him approach, dived silently, and, with a wisdom he had never gained
from experience, turned in a direction quite contrary to that in which
the terrier expected him to flee. The vole moved slowly, right beneath
the dark form of the terrier now swimming in the backwater. On, on, he
went, past the stakes at the outlet of the pool into the trout-reach,
and still on, by a series of dives, each following a brief interval for
breath and observation among the sheltering weeds, till he arrived at
the pool above the cottage gardens, where a wide fringe of brushwood
formed an impenetrable thicket and he was safe from his pursuers.

Hardly, however, was this long journey needed. The dog was baffled at
the outset; and, casting about for the lost scent, he discovered, on the
pebbles, the strong smell of the weasel that had wandered thither to
quench his thirst while Brighteye was feeding in the reed-bed opposite.
Bob never by any chance neglected the opportunity of killing a stoat or
a weasel; so, abandoning all thoughts of rats and voles, he dashed
upward through the wood, and, almost immediately closing on his prey,
destroyed a bloodthirsty little tyrant that, unknown to Brighteye, had
just been planning a raid on the burrow by the willow-stoles.

Water-voles, as a rule, are silent little creatures; unless attacked or
frightened they seldom squeak as they move in and out of the lush
herbage by the riverside. But Brighteye was undoubte