quite naked, having been cut by the floods from a ridge of clay. Down
the middle of this incline a narrow track had been worn so smooth that
it gleamed in the sun almost like ice.

As he stared across the water a dozen questions crowded to the Babe's
lips. But he realized in time that the answers to them were fairly
obvious to himself, and he heroically choked them back. Had he not
that very morning been rebuked by his uncle for asking too many of what
he called "footy" questions? But one burst forth now, in spite of
himself.

"What do they do it for?" he demanded--having perhaps a vague idea that
all the motives of the wild creatures were, or ought to be, purely
utilitarian.

Uncle Andy turned upon him a withering look; and he shifted his feet
uneasily, convicted of another "footy" question.

"What do you slide down hill for?" inquired Uncle Andy sarcastically.

"Oh!" said the Babe hastily. "I see. And now are we going to catch
some fish?"

But Uncle Andy had stood his rod in a bush and sat down on the fallen
tree; and now he was getting out his old black pipe.

"Well now," he answered presently, "I don't think it would be much use
trying. What do you think?"

"Of course not," answered the Babe. "Otter have scared 'em all away."