The trappers gazed with pleasure that showed how near akin are naturalist and hunter.

Of course, they had some covetous thought connected with those glossy hides, but this was September still, and even otter were not yet prime.

Shoot, plump, splash, went the happy crew with apparently unabated joy and hilarity.
The slide improved with use and the otters seemed tireless; when all at once a loud but muffled yelp was heard and Skookum, forgetting all caution, came leaping down the bank to take a hand.
With a succession of shrill, birdy chirps the old otters warned their young.

Plump, plump, plump, all shot into the pool, but to reappear, swimming with heads out, for they were but slightly alarmed.

This was too much for Quonob; he levelled his flintlock; snap, bang, it went, pointed at the old male, but he dived at the snap and escaped.