And the otter grew so sentimental (for otters can be very
sentimental when they choose, like a good many people who are both
cruel and greedy, and no good to anybody at all) that she sailed
solemnly away down the burn, and Tom saw her no more for that time.
And lucky it was for her that she did so; for no sooner was she
gone, than down the bank came seven little rough terrier doors,
snuffing and yapping, and grubbing and splashing, in full cry after
the otter. Tom hid among the water-lilies till they were gone; for
he could not guess that they were the water-fairies come to help
him.

But he could not help thinking of what the otter had said about the
great river and the broad sea. And, as he thought, he longed to go
and see them. He could not tell why; but the more he thought, the
more he grew discontented with the narrow little stream in which he
lived, and all his companions there; and wanted to get out into the
wide wide world, and enjoy all the wonderful sights of which he was
sure it was full.

And once he set off to go down the stream. But the stream was very
low; and when he came to the shallows he could not keep under
water, for there was no water left to keep under. So the sun
burned his back and made him sick; and he went back again and lay
quiet in the pool for a whole week more.

And then, on the evening of a very hot day, he saw a sight.

He had been very stupid all day, and so had the trout; for they
would not move an inch to take a fly, though there were thousands
on the water, but lay dozing at the bottom under the shade of the