uber lived, he did pretty well, but as soon as his father died
Flat Tail set up for somebody great. Whenever any one questioned his
pretensions, he always replied:

"I am Mud Dauber's son. I belong to the best blood in the colony."

He utterly refused to gnaw or build. He was meant for something better,
he said.

And so one day in autumn, when the beavers were going out in search of
food for winter use, as Flat Tail was good for nothing else, they set him
to mind the dam. After they had started, Flat Tail's uncle, old Mr.
Webfoot, turned back and told his nephew to be very watchful, as there
had been a great rain on the head-waters of Silver Creek, and he was
afraid there would be a flood.

"Be very careful," said Webfoot, "about the small leaks."

"Pshaw," said Flat Tail, "who are you talking to? I am Mud Dauber's son,
and do you think I need your advice?"

After they had gone the stream began to rise. Little sticks and leaves
were eddying round in the pool above. Soon the water came up faster, to
the great delight of the conceited young beaver, who was pleased with the
opportunity to show the rest what kind of stuff he was made of. And
though he disliked work, he now began to strengthen the dam in the middle
where the water looked the most threatening. But just at this point the
dam was the strongest, and, in fact, the least in danger. Near the shore
there was a place where the water was already finding its way through. A
friendly kingfisher who sat on a neighboring tree warned him that the
water was coming through, but always too conceited to accept of counsel,
he answered:

"Oh, that's only a small leak, and near the shore. What does a kingfisher
know about a beaver dam anyway! You needn't advise me! I am the great Mud
Dauber's son. I shall fight the stream bravely, right here in the worst
of the flood."

But Flat Tail soon found that the water in the pond was falling. Looking
round for the cause, he saw that the small leak had broken away a large
portion of the dam, and that the torrent was rushing through it wildly.
Poor Flat Tail now worked like a hero, throwing himself wildly into the
water only to be carried away below and forced to walk up again on the
shore. His efforts were of no avail, and had not the rest of the Silver
Creek beaver family come along at that time, their home and their
winter's stock of provisions would alike have been destroyed. Next day
there was much beaver laughter over Flat Tai