Thither he went at once, and after a long, fruitless search began to think, though against his better judgment, that the otter, if it had reached that stream, must have gone up the water towards Buryas and not down towards the sea.
Fortunately he persevered, and there just below a sudden bend, on a deposit of silt, was the cleanly-cut footprint, showing the defect he had first noticed under the bushes at the head of the lake. Before him was convincing evidence of the difficulty of tracking the creature he was pitting his brains against, for its path on leaving the shelter of an overgrown ditch lay among some wild iris whose leaves met above, screening all the footprints but the solitary one on the mud. This would have been washed out had the mills up the valley been thus early at work, and even as it was, a tiny wave from time to time lapped the silt as if striving to erase the tell-tale print. Holding back the flags to get a clear view, the Earthstopper gazed long at the beaten path, heedless of the brambles that tore his fingers, or of the stream that swirled around his feet.
“The auld game es et, Maister Sloper? laast night a robbin’ the trout, thes mornin’ curled up saafe and sound in the cleeves of the rocks. Ah, you rascal, ef et keeps me up all night, I’ll be even wyee yit.”
On his way home Andrew called at the Castle to report to Sir Bevil what he had seen, and to tell him what he had made up his mind to do, namely, to try and prevent the otter returning to the cliffs.
“I leave the matter in your hands, Andrew,” said the Squire, “my only fear is that if it comes up, and the chances are that it won’t, it may wind you in your hiding-place and be scared back. However, you know best about that. You won’t go over the ground again, I suppose?”
“No, sir, I shudden wonder ef I’ve bin wance too often as et es; but I couldn’t keep away.”
“Sorry to hear he’s been in a trap; you’ve no idea, I suppose.”
All the way across the heather to his cottage, Andrew thought of what the Squire had said, but reflection did not shake the confidence he felt in his plan. More than once, when he had lain hidden on the bank of the stream, an otter had swum past within a few feet of him without betraying the least alarm. Of course, he had kept as still as death. Almost in the twinkling of an eye the Earthstopper can become as rigid as a rock, and so disarm the suspicion of the shyest of wild creatures, provided they don’t get wind of him. He is in sight of his cottage now, but he is still defending his plan against the Squire.