196 THE FUR TRADE OF AMERICA 



stream, rains would carry away any house the beaver could build. 

 A trench across the upper stream or stakes through the ice prevent 

 escape that way. 



The trapper then cuts a hole in the dam. Falling water warns 

 the terrified colony that an enemy is near. It may be their greatest 

 foe, the wolverine, whose claws will rip through the frost-hard wall 

 as easily as a bear delves for gophers; but their land enemies 

 cannot pursue them into water ; so the panic-stricken family — 

 the old parents, wise from many such alarms ; the young three- 

 year-olds, who were to go out and rear families for themselves in 

 the spring; the two-year-old cubbies, big enough to be saucy, 

 young enough to be silly; and the baby kittens, just able to forage 

 for themselves and know the soft alder rind from the tough old 

 bark unpalatable as mud — pop pell-mell from the high platform 

 of their houses into the water. The water is still falling. They 

 will presently be high and dry. No use trying to escape upstream. 

 They see that in the first minute's wild scurry through the shallows. 

 Besides, what's this across the creek? Stakes, not put there by 

 any beaver; for there is no bark on. If they only had time now 

 they might cut a passage through ; but no — this wretched enemy, 

 whatever it is, has ditched the ice across. 



They sniff and listen. A terrible sound comes from above — a 

 low, exultant, devilish whining. The man has left his dog on 

 guard above the dam. At that the little beavers — always trem- 

 bling, timid fellows — tumble over each other in a panic of fear 

 to escape by way of the flowing water below the dam. But there 

 a new terror assails them. A shadow is above the ice, a wraith of 

 destruction — the figure of a man standing at the dam with his 

 axe and club — waiting. 



Where to go now ? They can't find their bank shelters, for the 

 man has staked them up. The little fellows lose their presence 

 of mind and their heads and their courage, and with a blind scramble 

 dash up the remaining open runway. It is a cul-de-sac. But what 

 does that matter ? They run almost to the end. They can crouch 



