"I don't suppose he meant to go in. It's in the blood."

"There's no reason why he shouldn't, if it amuses him," Carroll replied.
"When I first met him, he'd have been more careful of his clothes."

A little later the dogs were driven in again, and this time the whole of
the otter's head was visible as it swam up-stream. The animal was
flagging, and on reaching shoaler water it sprang out altogether now and
then, rising and falling in the stronger stream with a curious
serpentine motion. In fact, as head and body bent in the same sinuous
curves, it looked less like an animal than a plunging fish. The men
guarding the rapid stood ready with their poles, and more were wading
and splashing up both sides of the pool. The otter's pace was getting
slower; sometimes it seemed to stop; and now and then it vanished among
the ripples. Carroll saw that Evelyn's face was intent, though there
were signs of shrinking in it.

"I'll tell you what you are thinking," he said. "You want that poor
little beast to get away."

"I believe I do," Evelyn confessed. "And you?"

"I'm afraid I'm not much of a sportsman, in this sense."

They watched with strained attention. The girl could not help it, though
she dreaded the climax. Her sympathies were now with the hard-pressed,
exhausted creature that was making a desperate fight for its life. The
pursuers were close upon it, the swimming dogs leading them; and ahead
lay a foaming rush of water which seemed less than a foot deep, with men