t they checked the destructive violence of it. It was
evidently a temporary makeshift, this; for in the next hour nothing
more was done. Then the Boy got tired, and went back to camp to wait
for Jabe and nightfall.

That evening the backwoodsman, forgetting the fatigue of his day's
cruising in the interest of the Boy's story, was no less eager than
his companion; and the two, hurrying through an early supper, were off
for the pond in the first purple of twilight. When they reached the
Boy's hiding-place by the dam the first star was just showing itself
in the pallid greenish sky, and the surface of the pond, with its
vague, black reflections, was like a shadowed mirror of steel. There
was not a sound on the air except the swishing rush of the divided
water over the break in the dam.

The Boy had timed his coming none too early; for the pond had dropped
nearly a foot, and the beavers were impatient to stop the break. No
sooner had night fairly settled down than suddenly the water began to
swirl into circles all about the lower end of the pond, and a dozen
heads popped up. Then more brush appeared, above the island-house, and
was hurriedly towed down to the dam. The brush which had been thrust
across the break was now removed and relaid longitudinally, branchy
ends down stream. Here it was held in place by some of the beavers
while others brought masses of clayey turf from the nearest shore to
secure it. Meanwhile more branches were being laid in place, always
parallel with the current; and in a little while the rushing noise of
the overflow began to diminish very noticeably. Then a number of
short, heavy billets were mixed with shorter lengths of brush; and all
at once the sound of rushing ceased altogether. There was not even the
usual musical trickling and tinkling, for the level of the pond was
too low for the water to find its customary stealthy exits. At this
stage the engineers began using smaller sticks, with more clay, and a
great many small stones, making a very solid-looking piece of work. At
last the old level of the dam crest was reached, and there was no
longer any evidence of what had happened except the lowness of the
water. Then, all at once, the toilers disappeared, except for one big
beaver, who kept nosing over every square inch of the work for perhaps
two minutes, to assure himself of its perfection. When he, at last,
had slipped back into the water, both Jabe and the Boy got up, as if
moved by one