sides stuck far out. But it was no wonder--for he never did any work.

"You'd better take my advice," Tired Tim told Brownie.

But Brownie Beaver had returned to his wood-cutting. He didn't even
stop to answer. To him, working was just fun. And building a fine
house was as good as any game.




IV

THE FRESHET


The rain had fallen steadily for two days and two nights-not just a
gentle drizzle, but a heavy downpour.

For some time it did not in the least disturb Brownie Beaver and his
neighbors--that is to say, all but one of them. For there was a very
old gentleman in the village known as Grandaddy Beaver who began to
worry almost as soon as it began to rain.

"We're a-going to have a freshet," he said to everybody he met. "I've
seen 'em start many a time and I can always tell a freshet almost as
soon as I see it coming."

Grandaddy Beaver's friends paid no heed to his warning. And some of
them were so unkind as to laugh when the old gentleman crawled on top