warmth and in feeding, and that he missed 
his mother, when for a few moments she went 
away from him. O-Go’s eyes were open, and 
had been from the first, yet he saw nothing, 
since daylight never enters a beaver lodge. 
There being no place for light to enter the 
lodge meant, of course, that the air in it was 
unchanged also. But O-Go and his family 
had no objection to re-breathed air, since they 
and their ancestors for untold generations had 
always lived in thick-walled, closely-sealed 
houses. Perhaps though, it is not exactly true 
that the air was not changed at all, as O-Go’s 
mother went in and out through the under¬ 
water entrance at least once or twice daily. 
Anyhow, the fewer openings a house has, the 
less opportunity there is for cold or enemies 
to enter. 
O-Go’s father was not living in the lodge 
that April, but was staying with some other 
males of the colony in a dugout located half 
a mile away at the side of one of the old beaver 
canals. O-Go’s parents were not on bad terms. 
On the contrary, they were very fond of one 
another, and had mated, not for a single sea¬ 
son, but for life. Were either of them to die, 
the other would live the remainder of life in 
loneliness. 
Like many other animals, however, beav¬ 
ers separate when there are very little ones in 
17 
