d; and the dog made a rush at its
prey.

The otter, thus intercepted, showed fight. Selta made a snap at its
back, and raised her forepaw to hold her enemy down. The otter
caught the foot in its mouth, and I heard the bones crunch in the
vicious bite. Selta lost hold and fell over the otter's back; her
foot was released; but the otter, bringing up its head between the
dog's front legs, grasped Selta's throat with its sharp teeth. With
a piteous whine the dog tried to spring away, but her leg was too
much broken to support her, and the two animals rolled over on the
flat stone, the otter uppermost, still with its teeth in the dog's
throat.

And now I saw my first chance of interfering. I grasped the otter
by the back, and tried to drag it away. I had no boots on my feet,
or I might have used them. All I could do was to plant my foot on
the animal's back, and stand with all my weight upon it. The otter
thereat turned savagely upon me, and, unfortunately for myself, not
even the possession of the viking's charm could save me from those
sharp teeth.

With a fierce snarl the otter took hold of the back of my ankle,
its teeth penetrating the skin and tearing it over. I had sense to
bend down and grasp the animal with my hands and rapidly snap its
backbone, finishing my work by dashing a heavy stone upon its head.
Forgetting my own hurt, I then turned to look after my dog.

Selta was lying upon the wet stone, the blood trickling from her
throbbing neck. I knelt down beside my faithful companion, and took
the injured foot in my hand. The dog had strength only to raise her
head in recognition, with a mournful look in her pleading eyes.

"My poor doggie!" I moaned, utterly cast down; and my falling tears
were mingled with Selta's blood. The dog was dead.

Chapter XVII. How The Golden Rule Was Kept.

My first thought on leaving the scene of this combat was to let the
dead otter lie where it had fallen; but I remembered that young
Thora Kinlay had once in my hearing expressed a wish to have an
otter's skin, of which to make a pair of gloves, and I determined
to make use of the animal I had killed. But I could not carry both
the otter and my poor Selta, whom I had already determined to lay
to rest in the sea, and my only course was to strip the otter of
its skin then and there. This I did with help of my pocketknife,
and in spite of the heavy rain that poured in streams down my back.

You will imagine the physical d