hounds, Venom, the terrier, was sent in to drive the otter out. 'He'll soon have un out,' said a man in a blue guernsey who knew his worth. But hard and game as the terrier was, the otter was his match. So the squire must have thought, for he determined to send Vic to his assistance. As soon as she was released, the eager little thing swam whining along the passage and joined in the fight; but, owing to the cramped quarters, instead of assisting her mate she hampered him. Once the tip of the otter's rudder showed momentarily, raising the excitement to fever-pitch; but this was followed by a long spell during which not a hair of either terrier or otter was visible.
'They'll never drive un, squire,' the woodman ventured to say. 'Why not flood the varmint out? Theere's a good head of water.'
'Too good a head, I fear; but we'll try. The terriers have had about enough. Get 'em out if you can.'
Watching his opportunity, the woodman managed to pull Vic out almost at once, and Venom after a while. Both were terribly cut up. The sight of their wounds angered the squire, who at once called out: 'Now, men, build a dam, and look lively; that otter shan't
