“Come on, fellows,” said Jack, “let’s go and take a swim.”
Dinner was over and the Scouts lay in various attitudes on the grass a little distance from the mess tent. The day had been unbearably hot. Usually there was a breeze that somewhat tempered the fierceness of the sun, and at night, indeed, it was so cool that their blankets felt mighty good.
This was the first really hot day that they had had since they had pitched camp. They had started out on a game of Mountain Scouting during the morning, but Mr. Durland, who feared the effects of the sun combined with violent exercise, had limited the range of their run and they had come home earlier than usual. Now nearly an hour had elapsed since their dinner had been eaten—or shall we say “gorged”? because with appetites like theirs that was the most fitting term,—and sufficient time had passed to make the proposed swim a matter of no danger.
The boys greeted Jack’s suggestion with a shout, and after obtaining Mr. Durland’s permission, started off, running and leaping, kicking up their heels like young colts, for the swimming place a little way from camp.
It was an ideal spot. The brook, starting from a point high up in the mountains and cold as ice at the beginning, was gradually tempered as it flowed under the sunlight into the lower levels and in the meantime also widened its course. At the point that the boys had chosen, it had spread out into a small pond or lake perhaps three hundred feet in width. Its course had also been checked by the level nature of the bottom at that point, so that it lay, with scarcely a perceptible movement, gleaming in the sun, which warmed it sufficiently to make swimming a delight. In places it was only three or four feet deep, but toward the southern end there was a depth of eight or ten feet that made it suitable for diving. The younger boys and those whose skill as swimmers was not very great, chose the upper part where, under the direction of Dick Crawford, the Assistant Scout-Master, those unable to swim rapidly learned, while those who simply knew the breast stroke were taught one by one the more scientific crawl and over-hand stroke that are the envy and despair of the small boy when he sees them put in practice by his larger companions. Tom and Pete and Bob were down with Jack at the southern end of the pool and as all were expert swimmers and the bank was within easy reach, to say nothing of the assistance that would be instantly rendered by any of their companions, should ill luck befall, were left to do as they liked.
They had found a heavy plank a few yards distant from the bank and had placed it over the log of a fallen tree so that it rose at a gradual angle until, where it overhung the stream, it was about ten feet from the water. The end that rested on the ground was firmly wedged between heavy rocks that the boys had gathered, capped by a section of tree trunk, so that, no matter what might be the strain at the other end, it was impossible for it to slip or yield. It made a capital springboard and the Scouts had a glorious time playing follow my leader. The slope of the plank was so gradual that they got a good running start, and, reaching the end of the plank, with hands upraised over their heads, were flung out in a graceful curve coming down head foremost, straight as an arrow, and seeing how far they could swim under water before the need of breath compelled them to come to the surface.
Jack’s familiarity with woodcraft and the lonely life of his early boyhood when he was left so largely to his own devices and to what enjoyment he could procure unaided from nature had made him a splendid swimmer. He could dive forward and backward. He could sit at the end of the springboard and from a sitting position leap to his feet on the edge of the board and dive into the water with just one motion. Once in the water, he swam like a fish. He could float and on occasion had done so for an hour at a time without changing his position. His action in swimming was grace itself. Now after the boys were tired of sporting in the water, he pressed his hands close against his side and swam from one end of the pool to the other, using simply his feet.
“Gee,” said Tom, who had never seen Jack swim this way before, “where did you learn that stroke, Jack?”
“Oh,” said Jack carelessly, “I got that from the beavers.”
“Beavers?” said Pete, with interest. “Do they swim that way?
“Sure!” said Jack. “Their front paws are very small and they have to rely entirely upon the back ones. These are webbed like those of a duck up to the root of the nails, and it’s one of the prettiest things you ever saw to see a beaver swim. There is scarcely a ripple. The front feet are perfectly motionless, pressed close up against its side, while its head, with its shining fur and its keen, bright eyes that seem to look in every direction at once, moves in a perfectly straight line toward the front door of his house.”
“House?” said Tom, incredulously. “What do you mean by that?”
“Just exactly what I say,” said Jack. “Haven’t you ever heard of beavers’ houses? Why, there isn’t a more intelligent builder among all the animals I know about, and I’ve watched almost every one of them! It’s not only a big house, but a well-made one. The beaver is never satisfied with anything but perfection. It has a lot of rooms in it and these are carpeted with leaves and moss and grass. The upper rooms are sometimes six or eight feet above the surface of the water so as to be perfectly dry. The wise old rascal knows that sometimes there is a freshet that raises the level of the stream and he makes his plan accordingly. There isn’t a thing about carpentering or mason work that he doesn’t know. And he has to make his house strong, too, because he has a good many enemies. The wolves and wolverines are after him all the time and unless he had something that they could not bite through or claw through, it would be all up with Mr. Beaver.”
By this time all the boys had become interested in Jack’s description and had gathered around him.
“You’re a lucky dog, Jack,” said Bob. “You’ve seen a whole lot of things that us city fellows don’t know anything about.”
“Well,” said Jack, “there is no reason why you shouldn’t find out all about the beaver, because I know for a fact that there are some not far from camp. Just the other day I caught sight of a beaver dam about three miles the other side of the logging camp. I was going to speak to you fellows about it at the time, but Don just then started up a woodchuck and we all got so excited that I forgot. What do you say to dressing and going over there now? It won’t be so much of a hike and as the camp is on our way, we will drop in and ask Mr. Durland about it so that he won’t be worried if we don’t get back until just before supper time. There is nothing else on hand for this afternoon and I am mighty sure that he will let us go. Wouldn’t be a bit surprised if he wanted to come along with us!”
The plan was greeted enthusiastically and after the fellows at the other end of the pool had been told about it, they rushed out and dressed quite as quickly as the rest. Then they hiked back to camp and put the matter before the Scout-Master, who readily assented to the trip, and, as Jack had foreseen, was very glad to go along. After a little more than an hour’s tramp Jack held up his hand in caution.
“You’ve got to be careful now, Scouts,” he said. “They’re wary old fellows and the least thing disturbs them. If they once suspect that we are anywhere near, it’s good-night with us. Those big, bright eyes will see us all right but we won’t catch a glimpse of them. Now’s the time for you Scouts to show what you know of woodcraft and follow me as silently as a band of Indians.”
Thus cautioned, the boys fell in behind Jack and, carefully avoiding stepping upon twigs or speaking above a whisper, soon reached the dam. They were on the banks of a mountain stream that wound its way through the woods until at the point where they stood it was perhaps a hundred feet in width. Just below them the progress of the stream had been checked by what seemed at first sight a narrow bridge extending from one bank to the other. This was about three feet wide and perfectly smooth.
As Jack whispered to Dick, who was the nearest, this was made just wide enough so that the beavers in going to and fro could pass each other in comfort.
It evidently grew a great deal thicker as it approached the surface of the water and at the lowest part was probably ten or twelve feet thick. As the current was not especially strong, this served effectually to make an almost unrippled pond such as the beavers love. It was not exactly straight across but bent in slightly on the side that pointed up stream so that at the center it was decidedly curved.
This, as Jack further whispered, was to break the force of the current and shunt it off gradually to each side of the dam.
It was the same principle that in a racing automobile gives the cigar-like point to the machine so as to act as a wedge going into the wind and lessening by that much its resistance. The base of the dam was formed by young saplings and branches of trees that had been cut by the beavers’ teeth and planted as piles. Between these they had woven blades of grass and strips of bark so as to hold the branches straight and form a foundation for the mason work that was coming next. For the wise little creatures knew perfectly well the force of the current, and were determined to make a good job while they were at it. They had made mortar from the gravel and clay on the bank of the stream, using their broad, flat tails as a trowel for mixing. They must have had to travel to and fro thousands of times before they completed the work and built around their temporary outlines of plaited branches the solid wall of masonry. They knew enough also not to make it top-heavy, and so gradually sloped it from the bottom to the top, making it more compact by slapping it with their tails until at last it stood almost like a wall of granite. They watched over the dam day and night. No Hollander was ever more careful to prevent a leak in the dikes than they were to keep their dam perfectly solid. They knew that a little carelessness at the start might spoil the work of years.
While the boys were looking open-eyed at this specimen of the beavers’ work, Jack suddenly whispered, “’Sh, here they come! Now keep perfectly still, boys, and you will see something worth while.”
From one of the mound-like houses up the stream a large beaver came out, slowly looking around him with infinite caution before he left the safety of his home. He was about two feet long in addition to a flat oval tail that made his total length nearly three feet. His nose was blunt, his ears small, and his eyes wonderfully soft and intelligent. He carefully scanned the banks and the surface of the stream, and, satisfied at length, paddled slowly toward the dam. Something in its appearance must have alarmed him, for suddenly he lifted his tail and struck it several times against the side of the dam. At the sound, as though it were a signal, two or three other beavers emerged from their houses and rapidly joined him. They swam toward a point on the farther side, where the boys, now that their attention was attracted to it, could see that a little stream was trickling through and falling to the lower level of the creek beyond.
In an instant all was activity, although there was no confusion. They acted as though they were perfectly disciplined and each knew just what he had to do. Two of them swam to the farther bank, climbed up and began to tear with their sharp teeth at some slender saplings. It was astonishing to see how quickly they had gnawed their way through and how adroitly they moved to one side when it fell. These they dragged to the edge of the bank, plunged into the water, holding an end in their teeth, and swam quickly toward the threatened point. Then two or three of them got together and pushed the young branches in among the others. One of them in the meantime had taken up his position on the bank and was rapidly making mortar, doing it as skillfully as the most experienced mason, pounding the clay and mud and stones together until it reached an even consistency and at times flirting water upon it with his tail. Then gathering up as much as he could carry between his two front paws and chin and with head held well out of the water he swam to the others, just as Jack had said, using his hind feet alone. There he dropped his load and returned for another.
By this time the others had done whatever work was necessary with the branches, and all devoted themselves to the mortar, working with incredible rapidity and never stopping for a moment. How long it would have taken to complete the repairs the boys never knew, for at that moment Tom, who in his eagerness had bent forward, lost his balance and fell with a crash to the ground. The wary creatures heard him instantly and like a flash turned and made for their homes. A moment after the surface of the water was as smooth as a mill-pond and none would have dreamed of the life and activity of a moment before.
“Well,” said Bob Hart, angrily, “of all the bone-heads!”
“Bone-head yourself!” said Tom. “How could I help it? Do you suppose I fell on purpose?”
“Come, come, boys!” said Mr. Durland. “We all know it was an accident and nobody is more sorry than Tom himself. But I guess there is no use waiting here any longer. You can be perfectly sure that there will be nothing doing now for the rest of the day.”
He rose to his feet and the others followed toward the camp, so full of wonder and excitement at what they had seen that it completely overshadowed their chagrin at Tom’s carelessness, and he got off more easily than he had expected.
All that evening when supper was over and cleared away the boys were so full of the events of the afternoon that they could hardly think of anything else.
“My,” said Bob, “did you see that beaver’s teeth? I’d hate to have him bite me!”
“Well,” said Jack, “they wouldn’t bite you unless they were cornered and had to. Then it would be a pretty healthy thing to keep out of reach of their teeth. They are as sharp as a chisel. As a matter of fact, the Indians use them to carve out their ornaments of bone. The beavers use them so much that Nature has to keep hustling to supply new material. There is an outside row that projects toward the front and an inner row that furnishes the material to keep the outer ones strong and keen. Sometimes a beaver loses a tooth on either the upper or lower jaw and then the one directly opposite this keeps growing so fast that after a while it prevents the beaver from closing his mouth. He can’t eat and soon starves to death.”
“I wonder,” said Dick, “if that was a whole family that we saw this afternoon.”
“I think very likely,” returned Jack, “because if there had been more they certainly would have been on the job. The beaver is a sociable animal and never cares to live alone. Usually there are four or five found together, but sometimes as many as thirty or forty will gather in a little village of their own. Each family has a separate house and each member of the family has his own individual room, which he keeps jealously for himself, and there is always a scrap if any one else tries to bunk in there with him.”
“I suppose you find them almost everywhere,” said Bob Hart.
“No, you don’t,” said Jack. “They used to be very plentiful, but their fur is in such great demand that hunters and trappers are after them all the time. In Europe, where they used to be abundant, there are hardly any left except in the zoos as curiosities. You don’t find so many of them in America either now, except where it’s cool, as it is up here, and over the line in Canada.”
“Well,” yawned Tom, as they finally got ready to go to bed, “I’d hate to have to work as they do. Did you see how they pitched in this afternoon? It makes me tired even to think of it.”
“Yes,” said Jack. “I guess we all know better than ever before what it means to be as ‘busy as a beaver.’”