THE PERSISTENT BEAVER gi 
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 
