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Camp and Trail - A Story of the Maine Woods by Isabel Hornibrook
page 110 of 263 (41%)

"At last the tree--it was an ash--fell, toppling into the water just
where the beavers wanted it. They pushed and tugged it down-stream for
about ten yards, to the dam, and propped it against the opening which I
had made. I couldn't see the rest of the operations clearly; but I
caught glimpses of them, marching about on their hind-legs, carrying mud
snug up to their chins like this," here Cyrus folded his arms across his
chest. "And before daybreak that dam was perfectly repaired, with never
a leak in it.

"You know they build the dams in very shallow water, only a few inches
deep; and they generally roll in a couple of long logs for a solid
foundation. It was one of these which I had torn out. Now, Neal, what do
you say about the beaver's intelligence?"

"If I didn't know you, Cyrus, I'd say you were making up as you went
along," answered Neal. "It seems one of those things which a fellow can
scarcely believe in. Hulloa! What's that?"

A loud report, like the bang of a gun, made all the boys, who had been
standing very quietly, gazing at the dam, suddenly jump.

"It's only a beaver striking the water with his tail," laughed Cyrus.
"He has been swimming about somewhere up-stream, and has scented us, and
dived. I have heard one do that a dozen times in the night, if he
detected the presence of man; but it's very unusual in the daytime, for
they rarely venture out in broad light. In diving, if suddenly alarmed,
they strike the surface of the water a tremendous whack with their
tails, as a signal of alarm, making this report, which in still weather
resounds for a great distance.
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