In one of the larger canals Baree surprised a big beaver towing a
four-foot cutting of birch as thick through as a man's leg--half a
dozen breakfasts and dinners and suppers in that one cargo. The four or
five inner barks of the birch are what might be called the bread and
butter and potatoes of the beaver menu, while the more highly prized
barks of the willow and young alder take the place of meat and pie.
Baree smelled curiously of the birch cutting after the old beaver had
abandoned it in flight, and then went on. He did not try to conceal
himself now, and at least half a dozen beavers had a good look at him
before he came to the point where the pond narrowed down to the width
of the stream, almost half a mile from the dam. Then he wandered back.
All that morning he hovered about the pond, showing himself openly.

In their big mud-and-stick strongholds the beavers held a council of
war. They were distinctly puzzled. There were four enemies which they
dreaded above all others: the otter, who destroyed their dams in the
wintertime and brought death to them from cold and by lowering the
water so they could not get to their food supplies; the lynx, who
preyed on them all, young and old alike; and the fox and wolf, who
would lie in ambush for hours in order to pounce on the very young,
like Umisk and his playmates. If Baree had been any one of these four,
wily Beaver Tooth and his people would have known what to do. But Baree
was surely not an otter, and if he was a fox or a wolf or a lynx, his
actions were very strange, to say the least. Half a dozen times he had
had the opportunity to pounce on his prey, if he had been seeking prey.
But at no time had he shown the least desire to harm them.

It may be that the beavers discussed the matter fully among themselves.
It is possible that Umisk and his playmates told their parents of their