With the luck that sometimes comes to those fellows, he was sitting under a tree near the bank, staring across at the otter-slide (which did not mean anything whatever or suggest anything to him, but was merely a strip of bare clay), when the otter family came to slide.

The father started down.

It was most interesting--so the stranger under the tree, who was as spry as a sparrowhawk, shot instantly; and the otter came down in a crumpled heap.

The mother might have escaped; but for just one second she hesitated, glancing round to see if her little ones were out of danger.
That second was enough for the smart shot across the water.

She dropped.