“That’s easier said than done,” puffed George. “If I do, he’ll turn and get me before I can jump out of the way.”
“No, he won’t. When you let go, I’ll keep him off with this pole.”
“Sounds—easy—but just look—what he’s—doing now!” gasped George, as the otter renewed its struggles. “Look out! He’s—getting—away—”
Ed rushed forward with the pole and made several vicious jabs into the side of the otter. It had gained its liberty, and turned savagely on George, who was endeavoring to roll out of its reach.
“Jump up!” screamed Ed, when he had succeeded in drawing the animal’s attention to himself. He might easily have killed it, but he did not care to commit the wanton murder. In fact, the boys were much impressed by the gameness of the otter and the splendid fight it had made against them.
Once George had gained his feet, they halted the baffled creature, and Ed took more snap-shots. Then they permitted it to travel, unmolested, to the shore, and watched it disappear into the bushes.
Ed turned to survey his friend, and immediately broke into peals of laughter.
“George, you are certainly a sight! Do hurry to the cabin and get some dry clothes on,” he urged, anxiously. “Are you hurt?”
“Not a bit,” laughed George. “And say, Ed, didn’t I tell you he wouldn’t get away from me?”
“You did, and you certainly made good. But let’s hurry—you must be shivering.”