3n 



vest-gathering went on for a month. All about 

 was busy, earnest preparation for winter. The 

 squirrels from the tree-tops kept a rattling rain 

 of cones on the leaf-strewn forest floor, the cheery 

 chipmunk foraged and frolicked among the with- 

 ered leaves and plants, while aspens with leaves 

 of gold fell before the ivory sickles of the beaver. 

 Splendid glimpses, grand views, I had of this 

 strange harvest-home. How busy the beavers 

 were! They were busy in the grove on the steep 

 mountainside ; they tugged logs across the run- 

 ways; they hurried them across the water-basins, 

 wrestled with them in canals, and merrily piled 

 them by the rude house in the water. And I 

 watched them through the changing hours; I 

 saw their shadowy activity in the starry, silent 

 night; I saw them hopefully leave home for the 

 harvest groves in the serene twilight, and I 

 watched them working busily in the light of the 

 noonday sun. 



Most of the aspens were cut off between thir- 

 teen and fifteen inches above the ground. A few 

 stumps were less than five inches high, while a 

 number were four feet high. These high cuttings 

 90 



