“Last evening,” said Two-Legs, “I saw the otter catch a big fish in the river here and eat him. Perhaps we could do the same.”
“Do try,” said Mrs. Two-Legs. “One thing is certain, I must have some food.”
He went out into the river and with his hands caught a great pike, who was swimming just past him, not dreaming of danger. He had so often seen Two-Legs wading through the river and Two-Legs had never looked at him. But now Two-Legs flung him on the island and there lay the pike gaping and gasping for breath and yelling with might and main:
“Hi!... Ho!... Murder!... Help!”
But he was soon dead. Two-Legs and his wife ate him and found him excellent.
“Get me another fish like that to-morrow, will you?” said Mrs. Two-Legs. “Frankly speaking, I was getting rather tired of those apples.”
Next day, Two-Legs went into the river again. He was not long before he saw another fine fish, but, just as he wanted to catch it, the otter snapped it away in front of his nose.
“Get out of my river, you thief!” shouted Two-Legs and struck at him.
“Whom are you calling thief?” said the otter, snarling and showing his white teeth. “I rather thought the river was mine. I was living here long before you came.”