They took up their station behind a growth of alders, and for a while
the dogs went trotting by in twos and threes or swam about the pool,
but nothing else broke the surface of the leaden-colored water. Then
there was a cry, an outbreak of shouting, a confused baying, and half a
dozen hounds dashed past. More followed, heading up-stream along the
bank, with a tiny brown terrier panting behind them. Evelyn stretched
out her hand.

"Look!"

Carroll saw a small gray spot--the top of the otter's head--moving across
the slacker part of the pool, with a very slight, wedge-shaped ripple
trailing away from it. It sank the next moment; a bubble or two rose; and
then there was nothing but the smooth flow of water.

A horn called shrilly; a few whip-cracks rang out like pistol-shots; and
the dogs took the water, swimming slowly here and there. Men scrambled
along the bank. Some, entering the river, reinforced the line spread out
across the head rapid while others joined the second row wading steadily
up-stream and splashing about as they advanced with iron-tipped poles.
Nothing rewarded their efforts. The dogs suddenly turned and went
down-stream; and then everybody ran or waded toward the tail outflow. A
clamor of shouting and baying broke out; and floundering men and swimming
dogs went down the stream together in a confused mass. There was a brief
silence. The hounds came out and trotted to and fro along the bank; and
dripping men clambered after them.

Evelyn laughed as she pointed to Vane among the leading group. He looked
even wetter than the others.