the pool, but to reappear,
swimming with heads out, for they were but slightly alarmed. This was
too much for Quonob; he levelled his flintlock; snap, bang, it went,
pointed at the old male, but he dived at the snap and escaped. Down the
bank now rushed the hunters, joined by Skookum, to attack the otters
in the pool, for it was small and shallow; unless a burrow led from it,
they were trapped.

But the otters realized the peril. All six dashed out of the pool, down
the open, gravelly stream the old ones uttering loud chirps that rang
like screams. Under the fallen logs and brush they glided, dodging
beneath roots and over banks, pursued by the hunters, each armed with a
club and by Skookum not armed at all.

The otters seemed to know where they were going and distanced all but
the dog. Forgetting his own condition Skookum had almost overtaken
one of the otter cubs when the mother wheeled about and, hissing and
snarling, charged. Skookum was lucky to get off with a slight nip, for
the otter is a dangerous fighter. But the unlucky dog was sent howling
back to the two packs that he never should have left.

The hunters now found an open stretch of woods through which Quonab
could run ahead and intercept the otters as they bounded on down the
stream bed, pursued by Rolf, who vainly tried to deal a blow with his
club. In a few seconds the family party was up to Quonab, trapped it
seemed, but there is no more desperate assailant than an otter
fighting for its young. So far from being cowed the two old ones made a
simultaneous, furious rush at the Indian. Wholly taken by surprise, he
missed with his club, and sprang aside to escape their jaws. The family
dashed around then past him, and, urged by the continuous chirps of the
mother, they plunged under a succession of log jams and into a willow
swamp that spread out into an ancient beaver lake and were swallowed up
in the silent wilderness.

Chapter 26. Back to the Cabin

The far end of the long swamp the stream emerged, now much larger, and
the trappers kept on with their work. When night fell they had completed
fifty traps, all told, and again they camped without shelter overhead.

Next day Skookum was so much worse that they began to fear for his life.
He had eaten nothing since the sad encounter. He could drink a little,
so Rolf made a pot of soup, and when it was cool the poor doggie managed
to swallow some of the liquid after half an hour's patient endeavour.