other cattle were
faring. The flood had now largely subsided; but it was plain that during
the storm the water had flowed back round the camp to a depth of several
feet. The oxen were nowhere to be seen, nor could he discern their
tracks round the camp or in the woods that surrounded it. He tried to
track them with a dog, but without success.

Several of Jotham's neighbors assisted him in the search. Where the oxen
had gone or what had become of them was a mystery; the party searched
the forest in vain for a distance of five or six miles on all sides.
Some of the men thought that the oxen had fallen into the stream and had
drowned; it was not likely that they had been stolen. Jotham was at last
obliged to buy another yoke of cattle in order to do his spring work on
the farm.

Two years passed, and Jotham's oxen were almost forgotten. During the
second winter, after school had closed in the old Squire's district,
Willis Murch, a young friend of mine who lived near us, went on a
trapping trip to the headwaters of Lurvey's Stream, where the oxen had
disappeared and where he had a camp. One Saturday he came home for
supplies and invited me to go back with him and spend Sunday. The
distance was perhaps fourteen miles; and we had to travel on snowshoes,
for at the time--it was February--the snow was nearly four feet deep in
the woods. We had a fine time there in camp that night and the next
morning went to look at Willis's traps.

That afternoon, after we had got back to camp and cooked our dinner,
Willis said to me, "Now, if you will promise not to tell, I'll show you
something that will make you laugh."

I promised readily enough, without thinking much about the matter.

"Come on, then," said he; and we put on our snowshoes again and prepared
to start. But, though I questioned him with growing curiosity, he would
not tell me what we were to see. "Oh, you'll find out soon enough," he
said.

Willis led off, and I followed. I should think we went as much as five
miles through the black growth to the north of Willis's camp and came
finally to a frozen brook, which we followed for a mile round to the
northeast.

"I was prospecting up this way a week ago," Willis said. "I had an idea
of setting traps on this brook. It flows into a large pond a little way
ahead of us, but just before we get to the pond it winds through a swamp
of little spotted maple, moose bush and alder."

"I guess it's beaver you're going to show me,"