strange and growing desire to get better acquainted with this curious
four-legged brotherhood of the pond. Already they had begun to make the
big forest less lonely for him. And then, close under him--not more
than ten feet from where he lay--he saw something that almost gave
voice to the puppyish longing for companionship that was in him.

Down there, on a clean strip of the shore that rose out of the soft mud
of the pond, waddled fat little Umisk and three of his playmates. Umisk
was just about Baree's age, perhaps a week or two younger. But he was
fully as heavy, and almost as wide as he was long. Nature can produce
no four-footed creature that is more lovable than a baby beaver, unless
it is a baby bear; and Umisk would have taken first prize at any beaver
baby show in the world. His three companions were a bit smaller. They
came waddling from behind a low willow, making queer little chuckling
noises, their little flat tails dragging like tiny sledges behind them.
They were fat and furry, and mighty friendly looking to Baree, and his
heart beat a sudden swift-pit-a-pat of joy.

But Baree did not move. He scarcely breathed. And then, suddenly, Umisk
turned on one of his playmates and bowled him over. Instantly the other
two were on Umisk, and the four little beavers rolled over and over,
kicking with their short feet and spatting with their tails, and all
the time emitting soft little squeaking cries. Baree knew that it was
not fight but frolic. He rose up on his feet. He forgot where he
was--forgot everything in the world but those playing, furry balls. For
the moment all the hard training nature had been giving him was lost.
He was no longer a fighter, no longer a hunter, no longer a seeker
after food. He was a puppy, and in him there rose a desire that was
greater than hunger. He wanted to go down there with Umisk and his
little chums and roll and play. He wanted to tell them, if such a thing