amined it with care; but for a long time they 
found nothing that exactly suited their purpose. 
At length, however, they located just what 
they wished; it was a billet of poplar wood, 
and was about five feet long and some eight 
inches thick. This stick was almost, although 
not quite, water-logged, and the short stubs 
of several branches were still on it. 
With great care not to touch the dam itself, 
those three wise old beavers gently clawed 
that log away from the bank. One end swung 
out easily enough, but the other offered con¬ 
siderable resistance. Therefore Uncle Castor, 
with the help of Chisel-tooth, pushed sideways 
on it, while Father Beaver tugged bravely at 
the free end. 
“Snap!” The log came away from the dam; 
but with it came the thing that made that 
terrifying noise. It flew through the air, just 
missing Uncle Castor’s head, and then splashed 
into the water, dangling from the log—by a 
short piece of chain. Quite by accident, the three 
beavers had sprung one of the traps, but for¬ 
tunately they had done so without harm. 
It was now perfectly safe for them to handle 
that poplar log, had they chosen to do so; but 
the three old beavers would have nothing fur¬ 
ther to do with it. They left it floating where 
it lay, and sought elsewhere. However, they 
could find no other log suited to their pur- 
119 
