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