ALONE IN THE WORLD
For two or three weeks the beavers kept very quiet in their new retreat,
only going out at night, which is their usual habit. They replenished
their food of birch and poplar bark frequently by felling small
saplings, cutting them up in pieces about three feet in length and then
securing them under the ice.
This was great fun for Shaggycoat, who had never done any work before
and he loved to see the tall saplings come swishing down, but it was no
fun for his grandfather who was getting very old. The long flight, the
loss of sleep, and want of food, had been too much for him, and he did
not recuperate as quickly as the two-year-old.
One day just at dusk, Shaggycoat thought he would steal out and fell a
tree for himself. His teeth fairly ached to be gnawing something, so he
slipped away from his grandfather and paddled out to the open spot in
the ice. Although he is a great swimmer and is only excelled by the
otter, the beaver does not swim like other quadrupeds, for he holds his
forefeet up under him, and works his powerful hind legs like lightning.
As the feet are broad and webbed and he strikes at a slight angle, he
propels himself through the water with great velocity.
As Shaggycoat neared the open place in the river where the water ran
swiftly and it was easy to clamber out on the bank, a queer feeling came
over him.
He was not afraid to go out alone, although his grandfather had always
gone with him. It was only a few steps and he thought nothing could harm
him, but something seemed to hold him back and fill him with a sense of
danger. Then he happened to glance up and, close to the opening in the
ice, he saw a large gray animal crouched, watching the hole intently.
The stranger was two or three times the size of Shaggycoat, as large as
any beaver he had ever seen, but he was not a beaver. His fore paws were
too long and powerful, his head with tufted ears too flat, and his eyes
were too cruel and hungry. The longer Shaggycoat looked at the fierce
animal above him on the ice, the greater grew his fear, until he fled at
a headlong pace to the overhanging bank, where his grandfather was
sleeping. His precipitate flight into the burrow awoke the old beaver
who slept lightly and was always watchful.
When Shaggycoat related his adventure, the old beaver looked troubled
and combed his head thoughtfully with the claws upon his hind leg. After
dusk had fallen and the stars appeared, he carefully reconnoitred,
leaving Shaggycoat in the burrow. After half an hour's time, he returned
and his manner was anxious.
He told Shaggycoat that they must not use the opening in the ice any
more or go upon the land, for a lynx had found their hiding-place and
would watch by their front door until he dined upon beaver meat. They
must start that very night and go farther up the river and find a new
opening, and even then they must be cautious. This was sorrowful news
for them both and the younger beaver remonstrated against leaving their
fine store of bark, but he got a sharp nip in his ear and was told to
keep his advice until it was asked for. So, after making a hearty
supper, they went sorrowfully upon their way to find a new open spot in
the river where the lynx would not be watching for them.
They went only about a mile that night, but found several open spots for
the ice was getting ready to break up. At last, they found a place that
suited them and dragged themselves up under a sheltering bank, near a
rapid, that afforded them a chance to go in search of food. Then the old
beaver slept long and sound, leaving Shaggycoat upon guard with orders
to wake him if anything uncommon appeared.
The young beaver did not like these silent vigils and the hours seemed
very long to him, but he did as he was told. He thought his grandfather
never would wake, but at last he did, late in the afternoon, but they
did not go ashore for bark--it was too dangerous, the older beaver
said--so they had a slim supper of frozen lily pads. But this was not
enough for the hungry stomach of Shaggycoat who gnawed away at some tree
roots that pierced the bank where they were hiding. It was not as good
as the fresh bark of the birch, but it filled him up and made him feel
better.
If Shaggycoat had been older and wiser, he would have been alarmed at
the old beaver's symptoms, but he was young and thoughtless, and knew
not of age, or the signs of failing life.
At last the spring freshet came and the ice in the river broke up. Then
they had to look for a spot where the bank was very high so they would
not be drowned out. It was a long and arduous search to find the right
spot, but at last it was found just in time, for the old beaver's
strength was nearly spent. But every day that the snow melted and the
ice went out of the river, food for the beavers grew more plentiful and
the sunshine and hope of spring made them glad.
Shaggycoat was now left to himself, to swim in the river and feed upon
the bark of saplings along the shore. The old beaver was too tired with
their long journey to venture out of the burrow they had chosen. He
gave Shaggycoat much good advice, and among other things told him to
always keep close to the water where he was comparatively safe, while
upon land, he was the easy prey of all his natural enemies. The peculiar
angle of his hind legs made it impossible for him, or any other beaver,
to travel much on shore, but, while in the water they were his
safeguard.
These were delightful days for the two-year-old. The water was getting
warm and the mere act of swimming filled him with delight. Besides, it
seemed like a very wonderful world in which he lived. He had come so far
and seen so many strange things. He wondered if there were other rivers
and if they were all as long as this one.
One spring morning when the air was warm and balmy and birds had begun
to sing in the tree-tops along the bank, Shaggycoat went for a swim in a
deep pool. It was not his custom to be abroad in the daylight, for
beavers as a rule love the dark and do most of their work in inky
darkness, but the two-year-old felt restless. He must be stirring. His
grandfather was too old and stupid for him, so he went.
He had a delightful play and a good breakfast upon some alders that grew
in a little cove. He stayed much longer than usual, so that when he
returned the sun was low in the west.
He found his grandfather stretched out much as he had left him, but
there was something peculiar about him. He was so still. He was not
sleeping, for there was no motion of the chest and no steam from the
nostrils. Shaggycoat went up to him and put his nose to his, but it was
quite cold. Then he poked him gently with his paw, but he did not stir.
Then he nipped his ear as the older beaver had so frequently done to
him, but there was no response.
He would wait; perhaps this was a new kind of sleep. He would probably
wake in the morning, but a strange uneasiness filled Shaggycoat. He was
almost afraid of his grandfather, for he was so quiet and his nose was
so cold.
He waited an hour or two and then tried to waken him again, but with no
better success. This time to touch the icy nose of the old beaver sent a
chill through Shaggycoat's every nerve, and a sudden terror of the
lifeless silent thing before him seized him.
Then a sense of loss, coupled with a great fear, came over him and he
fled from the burrow like a hunted creature. He must put as many miles
as possible between himself and that sleep from which there was no
waking.
The river had never seemed so dark and uninviting before, nor held so
many terrors. His grandfather had always led the way and he had merely
to follow. Now he was to lead. But where? He did not know the way, but
that silence and the terror of that stiff form with the cold nose
haunted him and he fled on.
Morning found him many miles from the shelving bank, where the old
beaver had been left behind.
Shaggycoat feared the river and all it contained. The world too was
strange to him, but most of all he feared that silent form under the
dark bank.
From that day he became a wanderer in the great world. He went by river
courses and through mountain lakes, always keeping out of danger as well
as he could.
Many scraps of good advice he now remembered which had been given him by
his grandfather. Perhaps his grandfather had felt the heavy sleep coming
upon him and had given the advice that Shaggycoat might take care of
himself when he should be left alone; or maybe it was only an instinct
that had come down through many generations of aquatic builders. But
certain things he did and others he refrained from doing, because
something told him that it would be dangerous.
Other bits of information he gathered from sad experience. Many things
befell him that probably never would, had he been in company with wiser
heads, but, he was an orphan, and the lot of the orphan is always hard.
These are a few of the lessons that he learned during that adventurous
summer: that the water is the beaver's element, but on land he is the
laughing-stock of all who behold him; that in the water is comparative
safety, but on land are many dangers; that the otter is the beaver's
deadly enemy, always to be avoided if possible; that minks and muskrats
are harmless little creatures, but not suitable company for a
self-respecting beaver; that sweet-smelling meat, for which you do not
have to work, is dangerous and bites like a clam, holding on even more
persistently.
These and other things too numerous to mention Shaggycoat learned, some
by observation and some by personal experience.
At first, the summer passed quickly. There were so many things to see,
and so many rivers and lakes to visit, but by degrees a sense of
loneliness came over him. He had no friend, no companion.
He was positively alone in all the great world.