le gun was not far distant.

But the hours slipped away, and little by little he grew less uneasy.
He began to hope that that day would prove as peaceful as the
previous day had been. Then suddenly there was a sharp report from
the farther end of Paddy's pond. It was almost like a pistol shot.
However, it wasn't a pistol shot. It wasn't a shot at all.
It was the slap of Paddy's broad tail on the surface of the water.
Instantly Lightfoot was on his feet. He knew just what that meant.
He knew that Paddy had seen or heard or smelled a hunter.

It was even so. Paddy had heard a dry stick snap. It was a very
tiny snap, but it was enough to warn Paddy. With only his head
above water he had watched in the direction from which that sound
had come. Presently, stealing quietly along towards the pond, a
hunter had come in view. Instantly Paddy had brought his broad
tail down on the water with all his force. He knew that Lightfoot
would know that that meant danger. Then Paddy had dived,
and swimming under water, had sought the safety of his house.
He had done his part, and there was nothing more he could do.

CHAPTER XV: The Three Watchers

When Paddy the Beaver slapped the water with his broad tail,
making a noise like a pistol shot, Lightfoot understood that this
was meant as a warning of danger. He was on his feet instantly,
with eyes, ears and nose seeking the cause of Paddy's warning.
After a moment or two he stole softly up to the top of a
little ridge some distance back from Paddy's pond, but from the
top of which he could see the whole of the pond. There he hid
among some close-growing young hemlock-trees. It wasn't long
before he saw a hunter with a terrible gun come down to the shore
of the pond.

Now the hunter had heard Paddy slap the water with his broad
tail. Of course. There would have been something very wrong with
his ears had he failed to hear it.

"Confound that Beaver!" muttered the hunter crossly. "If there
was a Deer anywhere around this pond, he probably is on his way now.
I'll have a look around and see if there are any signs."

So the hunter went on to the edge of Paddy's pond and then began
to walk around it, studying the ground as he walked. Presently he
found the footprints of Lightfoot in the mud where Lightfoot had
gone down to the pond to drink.

"I thought as much," muttered the hunter. "Those tracks were made
last night. That Deer probably was lying down somewh