CHAPTER 10
Just as in the life of every man there is one big, controllinginfluence, either for good or bad, so in the life of Baree the beaverpond was largely an arbiter of destiny. Where he might have gone if hehad not discovered it, and what might have happened to him, are mattersof conjecture. But it held him. It began to take the place of the oldwindfall, and in the beavers themselves he found a companionship whichmade up, in a way, for his loss of the protection and friendship ofKazan and Gray Wolf.
This companionship, if it could be called that, went just so far and nofarther. With each day that passed the older beavers became moreaccustomed to seeing Baree. At the end of two weeks, if Baree had goneaway, they would have missed him--but not in the same way that Bareewould have missed the beavers. It was a matter of good-naturedtoleration on their part. With Baree it was different. He was stilluskahis, as Nepeese would have said. He still wanted mothering; he wasstill moved by the puppyish yearnings which he had not yet had the timeto outgrow; and when night came--to speak that yearning quiteplainly--he had the desire to go into the big beaver house with Umiskand his chums and sleep.
During this fortnight that followed Beaver Tooth's exploit on the damBaree ate his meals a mile up the creek, where there were plenty ofcrayfish. But the pond was home. Night always found him there, and alarge part of his day. He slept at the end of the dam, or on top of iton particularly clear nights, and the beavers accepted him as apermanent guest. They worked in his presence as if he did not exist.
Baree was fascinated by this work, and he never grew tired of watchingit. It puzzled and bewildered him. Day after day he saw them floattimber and brush through the water for the new dam. He saw this damgrowing steadily under their efforts. One day he lay within a dozenfeet of an old beaver who was cutting down a tree six inches through.When the tree fell, and the old beaver scurried away, Baree scurried,too. Then he came back and smelled of the cutting, wondering what itwas all about, and why Umisk's uncle or grandfather or aunt had gone toall that trouble.
He still could not induce Umisk and the other young beavers to join himin play, and after the first week or so he gave up his efforts. Infact, their play puzzled him almost as much as the dam-buildingoperations of the older beavers. Umisk, for instance, was fond ofplaying in the mud at the edge of the pond. He was like a very smallboy. Where his elders floated timbers from three inches to a foot indiameter to the big dam, Umisk brought small sticks and twigs no largeraround than a lead pencil to his playground, and built a make-believedam of his own.
Umisk would work an hour at a time on this play dam as industriously ashis father and mother were working on the big dam, and Baree would lieflat on his belly a few feet away, watching him and wondering mightily.And through this half-dry mud Umisk would also dig his miniaturecanals, just as a small boy might have dug his Mississippi River andpirate-infested oceans in the outflow of some back-lot spring. With hissharp little teeth he cut down his big timber--willow sprouts nevermore than an inch in diameter; and when one of these four or five-footsprouts toppled down, he undoubtedly felt as great a satisfaction asBeaver Tooth felt when he sent a seventy-foot birch crashing into theedge of the pond. Baree could not understand the fun of all this. Hecould see some reason for nibbling at sticks--he liked to sharpen histeeth on sticks himself; but it puzzled him to explain why Umisk sopainstakingly stripped the bark from the sticks and swallowed it.
Another method of play still further discouraged Baree's advances. Ashort distance from the spot where he had first seen Umisk there was ashelving bank that rose ten or twelve feet from the water, and thisbank was used by the young beavers as a slide. It was worn smooth andhard. Umisk would climb up the bank at a point where it was not sosteep. At the top of the slide he would put his tail out flat behindhim and give himself a shove, shooting down the toboggan and landing inthe water with a big splash. At times there were from six to ten youngbeavers engaged in this sport, and now and then one of the olderbeavers would waddle to the top of the slide and take a turn with theyoungsters.
One afternoon, when the toboggan was particularly wet and slippery fromrecent use, Baree went up the beaver path to the top of the bank, andbegan investigating. Nowhere had he found the beaver smell so strong ason the slide. He began sniffing and incautiously went too far. In aninstant his feet shot out from under him, and with a single wild yelphe went shooting down the toboggan. For the second time in his life hefound himself struggling under water, and when a minute or two later hedragged himself up through the soft mud to the firmer footing of theshore, he had at last a very well-defined opinion of beaver play.
It may be that Umisk saw him. It may be that very soon the story of hisadventure was known by all the inhabitants of Beaver Town. For whenBaree came upon Umisk eating his supper of alder bark that evening,Umisk stood his ground to the last inch, and for the first time theysmelled noses. At least Baree sniffed audibly, and plucky little Umisksat like a rolled-up sphinx. That was the final cementing of theirfriendship--on Baree's part. He capered about extravagantly for a fewmoments, telling Umisk how much he liked him, and that they'd be greatchums. Umisk didn't talk. He didn't make a move until he resumed hissupper. But he was a companionable-looking little fellow, for all that,and Baree was happier than he had been since the day he left the oldwindfall.
This friendship, even though it outwardly appeared to be quiteone-sided, was decidedly fortunate for Umisk. When Baree was at thepond, he always kept as near to Umisk as possible, when he could findhim. One day he was lying in a patch of grass, half asleep, while Umiskbusied himself in a clump of alder shoots a few yards away. It was thewarning crack of a beaver tail that fully roused Baree; and thenanother and another, like pistol shots. He jumped up. Everywherebeavers were scurrying for the pond.
Just then Umisk came out of the alders and hurried as fast as hisshort, fat legs would carry him toward the water. He had almost reachedthe mud when a lightning flash of red passed before Baree's eyes in theafternoon sun, and in another instant Napakasew--the he-fox--hadfastened his sharp fangs in Umisk's throat. Baree heard his littlefriend's agonized cry; he heard the frenzied flap-flap-flap of manytails--and his blood pounded suddenly with the thrill of excitement andrage.
As swiftly as the red fox himself, Baree darted to the rescue. He wasas big and as heavy as the fox, and when he struck Napakasew, it waswith a ferocious snarl that Pierrot might have heard on the fartherside of the pond, and his teeth sank like knives into the shoulder ofUmisk's assailant. The fox was of a breed of forest highwaymen whichkills from behind. He was not a fighter when it came fang-to-fang,unless cornered--and so fierce and sudden was Baree's assault thatNapakasew took to flight almost as quickly as he had begun his attackon Umisk.
Baree did not follow him, but went to Umisk, who lay half in the mud,whimpering and snuffling in a curious sort of way. Gently Baree nosedhim, and after a moment or two Umisk got up on his webbed feet, whilefully twenty or thirty beavers were making a tremendous fuss in thewater near the shore.
After this the beaver pond seemed more than ever like home to Baree.