Presently he remarked--"This otter family appears to have been having a pretty good time!" "Great!" said the Babe laconically.
"Well," continued Uncle Andy, regarding him with approval, "there was once another otter family, away up on the Little North Fork of the Ottanoonsis, that used to have such good times till at last they struck a streak of bad luck." "Did you know them ?" asked the Babe.
"Well, not as you might say intimately," answered Uncle Andy, with a far-away look in his grey eyes.

"You see, they had no way of knowing how nice I was, so they never admitted me into their family circle.
But I knew a lot more about them than they ever guessed, I can tell you.

When the flies weren't too bad I used to lie by the hour behind a thick bush, never stirring a finger, and watch them." "My, but how tired you must have got!" interrupted the Babe feelingly.
"I don't _have_ to twiddle my fingers, and scratch my head, and jump up and down every two minutes and a half," said Uncle Andy rather severely.

"But, as I was going to say, they also got used to seeing me sitting on the bank, quiet and harmless, till they no longer felt so shy of me as they did of Jim Cringle, my guide.

They knew Jim was an enemy, and they gave him a wide berth always.