places, and also for letting daylight into a "holt" or "hover," for an otter will soon "clear out" if light is "let in." As I stated earlier, a Master of otter-hounds interferes as little as he possibly can with his hounds, for in otter hunting, as in all other branches of hunting, one of the greatest charms to a sportsman is to see clever hound work-in other words, to note the clever and sagacious and patient manner in which the pack will unravel a difficulty and use their brains. Of course, at times it becomes imperative on the Master to help them, and then, if he is a good Master and the hounds are attached to him as they ought to be, it is simply beautiful to see how they will gather round him at the first sound of the horn.

CHAPTER III

"THE Dartmoor Otterhounds (water permitting) at Teigngrace Station. By invitation." Such was the announcement in the Western Morning News which cheered us all, and heralded what proved a successful and highly enjoyable day's sport. The morning of the eventful day dawned fair and auspicious, and at the appointed hour fourteen couple of hounds, with terrier "Jim," the ever-genial Master, and his two painstaking whips-Arthur and Johnniewith a strong contingent of the members of the Hunt, detrained, having travelled up by rail. Outside the station a large "field," including a goodly number of ladies, looking happy and bright, and fresh as the morning

dew, had assembled to welcome the gallant Master and his hounds. Five minutes'

grace being granted for the interchange of greetings and to enable the laggards "to make their number," a move was made for the marshes. The Master decided to try down the canal, so hounds were put to water just below the lock gates. No trail being touched all the way down to the Teignbridge Cricket Ground, they were called off, and taken across to the River Teign. At what was termed the Hay Stack Pool hounds were cast on stream, and hardly had they begun to hunt the water when they picked up a trail, which they carried slowly up for about half a mile, and on under the bridge. About 100 yards or so, just where the back water on the left bank enters, the trail became much stronger, and a burst of hound music announced the fact. Hunting closely, they carried the trail merrily up to Fishwick

C

Weir, which they dashed over, and up the long pool above, and nearly to the Orchard Pool. Here, just where the river takes a bend, good old Clinker made a strong mark at a big holt under the oak tree, that was seldom without a tenant, and the whole pack solidly proclaimed a "true bill." Dear little Jim was underground in a "brace of shakes," and like the plucky little fellow he was, precious soon served a forcible ejectment order on the quarry. Suddenly there was a heavy swirl in the water, and a chain of bubbles rising to the surface gives evidence that the otter has slipped out of his hover and indicates the direction he has taken.

"Look out below!" shouts the Master, the eager hounds swimming the line with the keenest enjoyment as they winded the chain. Arthur, who had been posted at the Weir, was now joined by two other men, who knew their work and how to keep

silent and still, but the otter does not reach them just yet, for he has taken refuge in a small holt, from which he is speedily evicted, and was momentarily viewed making for his former quarters-a stronghold he appears loth to quit. "Jim's" services were again called into requisition, and exclaiming—in dog Latin, of course-" Ecce iterum," or "Here we are again," requested the varmint to "clear out of that," which it did expeditiously. The whole pack winded him, and with a joyful merry chorus swam the line down the pool. Again the cry, "Look out below!" rings out. I must here explain that just above the Weir, on the right bank, is the flood-gate of a small stream or brook connecting the canal with the river. At this point Arthur stands patiently waiting. A minute passes-two-three, and then his watchful eye notes the chain approaching, and almost as quick as thought a large otter