some minutes and then joined their comrades on 

 land, where all rested for a time. 



Meanwhile the aged beaver had lifted a small 

 aspen limb out of the water and was squatted on 

 the log, leisurely eating bark. Before many min- 

 utes elapsed the other beavers became restless 

 and finally started up the slope in a runway. 

 They traveled slowly in single file and one by 

 one vanished amid the tall sedge. The old beaver 

 slipped noiselessly into the water, and a series of 

 low waves pointed toward the house. It was dark 

 as I stole away in silence for the night, and Mars 

 was gently throbbing in the black water. 



This was an old beaver settlement, and the 

 numerous harvests gathered by its inhabitants 

 had long since exhausted the near-by growths of 

 aspen, the bark of which is the favorite food of 

 North American beaver, though the bark of the 

 willow, cottonwood, alder, and birch is also eaten. 

 An examination of the aspen supply, together 

 with the lines of transportation, the runways, 

 canals, and ponds, indicated that this year's 

 harvest would have to be brought a long distance. 

 The place it would come from was an aspen 



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