Then a shout roused her and she looked round.
Where the smooth, brown water ran past the alder roots, a very small, dark object moved in advance of a faint, widening ripple.

Grace knew it was the point of the otter's head; the animal's lungs were empty since it remained up so long.

Next moment plunging dogs churned the pool into foam, the object vanished, and men ran along the bank to the lower rapid, while those already there beat the shallow with their poles.

The dogs bunched together and began to swim up stream; Gerald and one or two more plunged into the water, and for a few moments the otter showed itself again.
It looked like a fish and not an animal as it broke the surface, rising in graceful leaps.

Then it went down, with the dogs swimming hard close behind, and Grace thought it must be caught.