of a sunny afternoon sliding down a clay bank with endless
delight. The slide had been made, with much care evidently, on
the steep side of a little promontory that jutted into the river.
It was very steep, about twenty feet high, and had been made
perfectly smooth by much sliding and wetting-down. An otter would
appear at the top of the bank, throw himself forward on his belly
and shoot downward like a flash, diving deep under water and
reappearing some distance out from the foot of the slide. And all
this with marvelous stillness, as if the very woods had ears and
were listening to betray the shy creatures at their fun. For it
was fun, pure and simple, and fun with no end of tingle and
excitement in it, especially when one tried to catch the other
and shot into the water at his very heels.

This slide was in perfect condition, and the otters were careful
not to roughen it. They never scrambled up over it, but went
round the point and climbed from the other side, or else went up
parallel to the slide, some distance away, where the ascent was
easier and where there was no danger of rolling stones or sticks
upon the coasting ground to spoil its smoothness.

In winter the snow makes better coasting than the clay. Moreover
it soon grows hard and icy from the freezing of the water left by
the otter's body, and after a few days the slide is as smooth as
glass. Then coasting is perfect, and every otter, old and young,
has his favorite slide and spends part of every pleasant day
enjoying the fun.

When traveling through the woods in deep snow, Keeonekh makes use
of his sliding habit to help him along, especially on down