er beaver.
The water was lashed to such a turmoil that the waves spread all over
the pond, washing up to the Boy's feet on the crest of the dam, and
swaying the bronze-green grasses about the house on the little island.
Though, without a doubt, all the other citizens of the pond were
watching the battle even more intently than himself, the Boy could not
catch sight of so much as nose or ear. The rest of the spectators kept
close to the covert of grass tuft and lily pad.

[Illustration: "SUDDENLY REARING HIS SLEEK, SNAKY BODY HALF OUT OF THE
WATER."]

All at once the small beaver stiffened itself out convulsively on top
of the water, turned belly up, and began to sink. At the same time the
otter let go, tore free of his second and more dangerous adversary,
and swam desperately for the nearest point of shore. The surviving
beaver, evidently hurt, made no effort to follow up his victory, but
paddled slowly to the house on the island, where he disappeared.
Presently the otter gained the shore and dragged himself up. His
glossy brown skin was gashed and streaming with blood, but the Boy
gathered that his wounds were not mortal. He turned, stared fixedly at
the beaver-house for several seconds as if unwilling to give in, then
stole off through the trees to seek some more hospitable water. As he
vanished, repulsed and maltreated, the Boy realized for the first time
how hostile even the unsophisticated wilderness is to a stranger.
Among the wild kindreds, even as among men, most things worth having
are preempted.

When the Boy's excitement over this strange fight had calmed down, he
set himself with keen interest to examining the dam. He knew that by
this time every beaver in the pond was aware of his presence, and
would take good care to keep out of sight; so there was no longer
anything to be gained by concealment. Pacing the crest, he made it to
be about one hundred feet in length. At the centre, and through a
great part of its length, it was a little over three feet high, its
ends diminishing gradually into the natural rise of the shores. The
base of the dam, as far as he could judge, seemed to be about twelve
feet in thickness, its upper face constructed with a much more gradual
slope than the lower. The whole structure, which was built of poles,
brush, stones, and earth, appeared to be very substantial, a most
sound and enduring piece of workmanship. But along the crest, which
was not more than a foot and a half in wi