fts and little hillocks in the way! And sometimes the
billet rolls down into a hollow, and then it is very hard to get it out
again. He works like a beaver, and pushes and shoves and toils with
tremendous energy, but I am afraid that more than one choice stick never
reaches the water.

These were his first tasks. Later on he learned to fell trees himself.
Standing up on his hind legs and tail, with his hands braced against the
trunk, he would hold his head sidewise, open his mouth wide, set his
teeth against the bark, and bring his jaws together with a savage nip
that left a deep gash in the side of the tree. A second nip deepened the
gash, and gave it more of a downward slant, and two or three more
carried it still farther into the tough wood. Then he would choose a new
spot a little farther down, and start a second gash, which was made to
slant up toward the first. And when he thought that they were both deep
enough he would set his teeth firmly in the wood between them, and pull
and jerk and twist at it until he had wrenched out a chip--a chip
perhaps two inches long, and from an eighth to a quarter of an inch
thick. He would make bigger ones when he grew to be bigger himself, but
you mustn't expect too much at first. Chip after chip was torn out in
this way, and gradually he would work around the tree until he had
completely encircled it. Then the groove was made deeper, and after a
while it would have to be broadened so that he could get his head
farther into it. He seemed to think it was of immense importance to get
the job done as quickly as possible, for he worked away with tremendous
energy and eagerness, as if felling that tree was the only thing in the
world that was worth doing. Once in a while he would pause for a moment
to feel of it with his hands, and to glance up at the top to see whether
it was getting ready to fall, and several times he stopped long enough
to take a refreshing dip in the pond; but he always hurried back, and
pitched in again harder than ever. In fact, he sometimes went at it so
impetuously that he slipped and rolled over on his back. Little by
little he dug away the tree's flesh until there was nothing left but its
heart, and at last it began to crack and rend. The Beaver jumped aside
to get out of the way, and hundreds and hundreds of small, tender
branches, and delicious little twigs and buds came crashing down where
he could cut them off and eat them or carry them away at his leisur