For a
while it was all dark as a pocket; then I began to see things dimly.
Presently a darker shadow shot along the bottom and grabbed the pole.
It was a beaver, with a twenty dollar coat on. He tugged; I held on
tight--which surprised him so that he went back into his house to
catch breath.
But the taste of fresh bark was in his mouth, and soon he was back
with another beaver. Both took hold this time and pulled together. No
use! They began to swim round, examining the queer pole on every
side. "What kind of a stick are you, anyway?" one was thinking. "You
didn't grow here, because I would have found you long ago." "And
you're not frozen into the ice," said the other, "because you
wriggle." Then they both took hold again, and I began to haul up
carefully. I wanted to see them nearer. That surprised them immensely;
but I think they would have held on only for an accident. The blanket
slipped away; a stream of light shot in; there were two great whirls
in the water; and that was the end of the experiment. They did not
come back, though I waited till I was almost frozen. But I cut some
fresh birch and pushed it under the ice to pay for my share in the
entertainment.
The beaver's house is generally the last thing attended to. He likes
to build this when the nights grow cold enough to freeze his mortar
soon after it is laid.
Pages:
76
77
78
79
80
81
82
83
84
85
86
87
88
89
90
91
92
93
94
95
96
97
98
99
100