he job as fast as they knew how, but making pretty
slow progress in spite of all their efforts. It was done at last,
however, and they felt easier in their minds when they knew that it was
ready for use in case of necessity. From its mouth in the depths of the
pond it sloped gradually upward to a dry chamber under the roots of a
large birch; and here, where a few tiny holes were not likely to be
noticed from the outside, two or three small openings, almost hidden by
the moss and dead leaves, let in the air and an occasional ray of
light. The big tree made a solid roof overhead, and the chamber was
large enough, with a little crowding, to accommodate a whole family of
beavers.

There was only one other heavy task, and that was the gathering of the
wood, which, with its bark, was to serve as food through the winter.
This too was finally finished, and the very last things that the beavers
did that fall were to put another coat of mud on the outside of the
lodge, and to see that the dam was in the best possible condition. No
repairing could be done after the ice made; and if the dam should give
way at any time during the winter, the pond would be drained, and the
entrances of the lodge and the burrow would be thrown open to any
prowling marauders that might happen to pass that way. So it was
imperative to have things in good order before cold weather came on.

There came a quiet, windless day, when the sky was gray, and when the
big snow-flakes came floating lazily down, some to lose themselves in
the black water, and some to robe the woods and the shores in white. At
nightfall the clouds broke up, the stars shone forth, and the air grew
odder and keener till long crystal spears shot out across the pond, and
before morning a sheet of glass had spread from shore to shore. I do not
think it was unwelcome. The beavers were shut in for the winter, or
could only go abroad with considerable difficulty, but they had each
other, and there was a little world of their own down under the ice and
snow. The chamber of the lodge was home, and just outside was their food
storehouse--the big pile of wood which it had cost so much labor to
gather. One of the entrances was shorter and straighter than the other,
and through this they used to bring in sticks from the heap, and lay
them on the floor between the beds, where they could devour the bark at
their leisure. If they grew restless, and wanted to go farther afield,
there was the bottom