THE PERSISTENT BEAVER 51 



on the edge of the pond, and their tall half- 

 burned mats swayed threateningly in the wind. 

 One night two of the dead spruces were hurled 

 into the pond. The smaller one had fallen 

 across a housetop, but the house was thick- 

 walled and, being frozen, had sustained the 

 shock which broke the spruce into sections. 

 The other fallen tree fell so heavily upon two 

 of the houses that they were crushed like shells. 

 At least four beavers were killed and a number 

 injured. 



Spring came early, and the colonists were no 

 doubt glad to welcome it. The pond, during 

 May and June, was a beautiful place. Grass 

 and wild flowers brightened the shore, and the 

 tips of the spruces were thick with dainty 

 bloom. Deer came up from the lowlands and 

 wild sheep came down from the heights. The 

 woods and willows were filled with happy mat- 

 ing birds. The ousel built and sang by the 

 falls near which it had wintered. Wrens, saucy 

 as ever, and quiet bluebirds and numbers of 

 wise and watchful magpies were about. The 

 Clarke crows maintained their noisy reputation, 

 and the robins were robins still. 



One May morning I concealed myself be- 

 hind a log by the pond, within twenty feet of the 

 largest beaver house. I hoped to see the young 

 beavers. My crawling behind a log was too 



