the deep places near the dam. He delights also in running water,
especially in winter when lakes and streams are mostly frozen,
and in his journeyings he makes use of the open channels that
guard the beavers' work. But the moment the beavers hear a
splashing there, or note a disturbance in the pond where Keeonekh
is chasing fish, down they come full of wrath. And there is
generally a desperate fight before the affair is settled.

Once, on a little pond, I saw a fierce battle going on out in the
middle, and paddled hastily to find out about it. Two beavers and
a big otter were locked in a death struggle, diving, plunging,
throwing themselves out of water, and snapping at each other's
throats.

As my canoe halted the otter gripped one of his antagonists and
went under with him. There was a terrible commotion below the
surface for a few moments. When it ended the beaver rolled up
dead, and Keeonekh shot up under the second beaver to repeat the
attack. They gripped on the instant, but the second beaver, an
enormous fellow, refused to go under where he would be at a
disadvantage. In my eagerness I let the canoe drift almost upon
them, driving them wildly apart before the common danger. The
otter held on his way up the lake; the beaver turned towards the
shore, where I noticed for the first time a couple of beaver
houses.

In this case there was no chance for intrusion on Keeonekh's
part. He had probably been attacked when going peaceably about
his business through the lake.