For it was astonishing how quickly
the news got around that the old otters were dead. Toward sunset that
evening, when the two lonely youngsters, puzzled and miserable, stole
back to their old den under the bank, they found that a mink had dared
to kill a big trout in their own pool. There were the remains, and the
presumptuous intruder's tracks, almost at their very door. They were
indignant, and the thick hair bristled on their necks. But, realizing
suddenly how hungry they were, they did not scorn to eat the stranger's
leavings. Then they dived into their den; and after sniffing about and
whimpering lonesomely for a while, they curled themselves up close
together and went to sleep. It had been a strange and dreadful day.
"As you may imagine, these two youngsters had never yet been trained to
the useful habit of sleeping with one ear open. They had left that to
their parents. But to-night, even while they slept most soundly,
something within them seemed to keep watch. Whatever it was, suddenly
it woke them. And instantly they were tremendously wide awake. Before
they knew why they did it, they were uncurled from the ball in which
they slept and, crouching side by side, glaring savagely up the narrow
passage that led to their back door.
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