Their number grew until there were a half dozen or more at play, chasing each other down the slide, and swimming away sputtering, and slapping as they went about it.

Then an otter appeared, and he quietly ascended the bank, to the top of the slide. He would take the slide in the manner that the beaver did, but upon striking the water, would go under and remain for a distance of forty or fifty feet, before the ripples would show his rising to the surface.

There are two of these slides that are known by location to the writer. The one described, and another mentioned by Eugene Ware, at a point a little east of the North Platte.

Ware described the habits of the beaver and otter in the identical manner, but he adds one of the stories of the wild, handed down from the red man, who was then his companion. It appears that of a sudden the animals quit their playing, and the Indian saw or claimed he could see the outline of an elk in the bushes upon the other bank of the improvised lagoon. He said the elk had given the water animals some warning of the near approach of men. He claimed that there was a language of the animal kingdom, which all animals understood -- the language of danger, by which one specimen could signal others. Ware said he wanted to wait until the animals came out to play again, but the guide said "no, they will play no more tonight."