"All day long the two Little Furry Ones continued their search. But
you would not have known them for the same creatures as those which had
started out that morning. Then they had played carelessly and gone
boldly, thinking not of enemies and fearing none. Now they crept
noiselessly, sniffing this way and that, and never showing their noses
outside a thicket without first taking observations. For life was now
a very different matter with them. Never in all their lives before had
they come across so many hostile and threatening smells as they
encountered this one afternoon. But then, to be sure, they had never
looked for them before. They were all the time running into trails of
mink, or weasel, or wildcat; and it seemed to them as if the world had
suddenly become quite full of foxes. They were painfully surprised,
for they had never thought there were so many disagreeable creatures in
the world. You see, being so young and inexperienced, it never
occurred to them that one fox or one weasel could make quite a lot of
trails. So they kept having palpitations every other minute.

"It was just as well, however, that they got such an exaggerated idea
of the numbers of their enemies. 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.