"I'm very glad you heard it, boys; for your chances of seeing the master
beaver or any of his colony are mighty slim. But we'll probably come on
their lodge a little higher up."

Above the shallow water where the dam was built, the stream widened into
a broad, deep pool. About fifty yards ahead, in the centre of this, was
a tiny island. On its extreme edge Joe pointed out the beaver lodge. It
was shaped something like a huge beehive, being about a dozen feet in
diameter and five feet high. The outside seemed to be entirely covered
with mud and fibrous roots, through which the sticks which formed its
framework poked out here and there.

"The doors are all underwater," said Cyrus, "and so far down that
they'll be beneath the ice when the stream freezes in winter. Otherwise
the beavers could not reach their pile of food-wood, which they keep at
the bottom, and would starve to death. They are clerks of the weather,
if you like. They seem to know when the first hard frost is coming, and
sink their stores a day or two before. Man has not yet discovered their
mysterious knack of sinking wood, and keeping it stationary through many
months.

"They feed on the inner bark of poplar, white birch, and willow trees.
In autumn they fell these along the banks, generally so that they will
fall into the water, tug and push them down-stream, and float them near
to their lodges. If the trees are too big to be easily handled, they saw
them into convenient lengths."

"I call it tough luck, not being able to get a sight of the animals,
after seeing so much of their works," grumbled Royal.