CHAPTER VIII 

 In Beaver-Land 



ONE afternoon, when the splendor of the 

 autumnal forest had begun to pale, and grays 

 and browns had partially taken the place of 

 saffron and gold and flaming red, we floated 

 down into the pleasant valley that I call 

 beaver-land. 



For three or four miles above the first of 

 the chain of five lakes, there were plenty of 

 signs that beaver dwelt not far distant. The 

 first intimation that we had of being near the 

 colony, was the stumps of hundreds of poplars 

 and maples. These stumps were conical in 

 shape and where the tree had not yet quite 

 succumbed to these active rodents, it was 

 shaped like an hour-glass. The largest of 



