BIRTH AND INFANT DAYS 7 



is farther back than the memory of the oldest 

 moose hving can go. Down the years the bush 

 people have made it their duty to tell the beaver 

 story to all the little ones, lest they forget. The 

 moose herself had it from her mother's mother. It 

 was a very old story indeed. 



And when the young moose heard the tearing, 

 splitting rustle of the birch bark peeling off under 

 the scissor teeth of the universe-makers on the 

 stillness and silence of the luminous northern 

 night, he knew that, though they were so small 

 and insignificant looking, the beavers were the 

 greatest creatures he was ever likely to see. The 

 builders of this wonderful world ! This beautiful 

 world, into which he had somehow strangely and 

 luckily come ; this land on which a perfect moon 

 shone down to light the open glades with shafts of 

 silver glory ; of trees and water where the greenest 

 rushes grew undisturbed in all the centuries, form- 

 ing strong ramparts for the ducks to build in. 

 And the beavers had made it all ! 



He knew now why they worked so tirelessly, 

 so thoughtfully, so conscientiously. They had a 

 reputation to maintain. He understood, too, the 

 exact meaning of the proud motto of the beaver 



