be careless.

Now Lightfoot had known of hunters hiding near water, hoping to
shoot him when he came to drink. That always seemed to Lightfoot
a dreadful thing, an unfair thing. But hunters had done it
before and they might do it again. So Lightfoot was careful to
approach Paddy's pond upwind. That is, he approached the side of
the pond from which the Merry Little Breezes were blowing toward
him, and all the time he kept his nose working. He knew that if
any hunters were hidden there, the Merry Little Breezes would
bring him their scent and thus warn him.

He had almost reached the edge of Paddy's pond when from the
farther shore there came a sudden crash. It startled Lightfoot
terribly for just an instant. Then he guessed what it meant.
That crash was the falling of a tree. There wasn't enough wind to
blow over even the most shaky dead tree. There had been no sound
of axes, so he knew it could not have been chopped down by men.
It must be that Paddy the Beaver had cut it, and if Paddy had been
working in daylight, it was certain that no one had been around
that pond for a long time.

So Lightfoot hurried forward eagerly, cautiously. When he reached
the bank he looked across towards where the sound of that falling
tree had come from; a branch of a tree was moving along in the
water and half hidden by it was a brown head. It was Paddy the
Beaver taking the branch to his food pile.