true courage ne’er gives way to fear
when unexpected foes appear.
little joe otter.
never was peter rabbit more filled with curiosity than was the wilful little otter plunging through the snow towards a certain little snow-covered tree. she was sure that she had seen something move under that little tree. she hadn’t the least bit of fear. never in her short life had she been in real danger. never had she had a real fright. you see always her father, little joe otter, or her mother, had been close at hand. and of course, with father or mother near, there was never anything to be afraid of.
now the lowest boughs of that little hemlock tree were bent to the ground by the snow on them. under them it was dark. it was in this darkness that the little otter had thought she saw something move. she kept her bright eyes fixed on it as she drew nearer. a few feet from it she stopped abruptly. in that darkness under the boughs of the little tree were two little spots of light. the young otter stared and blinked and stared again. gradually she made out a face. the two little spots of light were two eyes, glowing with hunger and savage eagerness. the face was a fierce-looking face. never had the young otter seen such a fierce-looking face. for the first time in her life a chill of fear ran all over her.
she no longer had any curiosity. whose face it was she was staring at she hadn’t the least idea. she didn’t even want to find out. she suddenly wished she was back where she should have been with her father and mother and brother. she turned and bounded back towards the trail. the instant she turned a yellowish-brown form bounded out from beneath the young tree. it was yowler the bobcat.
despite the shortness of her legs, the young otter moved fast. but with his longer legs yowler moved faster. by the time she was back on the trail yowler was only a jump behind her. never was there a more frightened youngster in all the great world than was that young otter. but she was no coward. like a flash she turned to face yowler, spitting and snarling.
for an instant yowler hesitated. he had hoped to spring on her back, but he hadn’t been quite quick enough. she was now nearly grown, and she was big enough to fight hard. so yowler hesitated. but it was only for a moment. he knew that she was young and probably never had been in a fight. he was quite willing to be bitten and scratched a little for the sake of such a dinner as that young otter would make him. so with a snarl yowler sprang at her.
he tried to seize her by the throat, but she was too quick for him. the next instant they were rolling over and over in the snow, snarling, spitting, growling, biting and clawing at each other. now yowler likes to fight on his back, so that he can use those great, stout hind feet of his to rip and tear. but an otter, like other members of the weasel family, can twist and turn in a marvelous way. so the young otter managed to keep out of reach of those clawing hind feet.
such a fight as that was! there was no longer any fear in that young otter. she was simply fighting mad. but yowler was bigger and stronger, and he was an old fighter. it certainly looked bad for that wilful, heedless, young otter.
