“Vat!” said Jan, leaping from the earth. “Vy den you cooms here? Vy den you no stay at home mit yourself unt not pring me out here vere dey lifs?” “Ye never seen a beaver hut, I reckon,” said Ben. “Ye wouldn’t believe me when I tell ye thet them houses ar’ the work of beasts.” “Who puild dem houses, den?” “Beavers,” said Ben. “S’arch creation through, and I reckon ye won’t find any beast thet ken beat them. They’re carpenters, masons, and engineers; an’ they know the’r trade too.” “Penn Miffin, you ish no more ash von liar. Vy you dry to fool me? How dem peavers coot down trees, eh?” “With the’r teeth. A lot of ’em git at a tree thet stands close to the bank, and gnaw away at it till it falls over. Then they work away with sticks an’ stones to make the’r dam, an’ when thet is done they build the’r houses. You’d better believe they ain’t got the’r ekal anywhere in the ’arth. I’ll tell ye lots more about ’em, miss.” “Thank you,” said Millicent. “Vell, you cooms here to catch dem? Dey too smart,” said Jan. “They are pooty smart, thet’s a fact,” said Ben. “But we manage to get the upper hand of ’em somehow. But thet’s neither here nor thar. Let’s make a cabin. The gal must hev a place to live in. Ye ken use an ax, can’t ye?” “Yaw,” said Jan. They had hoppled their horses and allowed them to stray at will about the inclosure, after the traps and furniture had been removed. Leaving their new friends together, each of the men attacked a pine about a foot through at the butt, and soon cut enough logs for their hut. Both Ben and Jules were old hands at this kind of work, and Jan, when he understood what was required of him, did good service. The logs were cut down, squared slightly, notched at the ends, and in a few hours they began to lay the first in their places. By the time it was dark they had raised the walls four feet from the ground. “Knock off fur the night,” said Ben. “Let’s hev something more to eat.” “Yaw,” said Jan, “dat ish coot. I pees so mooch hungry as nefer.” “Ye’ve worked well, old man,” said Ben. “I say thet fur ye. Come, Jule, try yer hand at the cookery ag’in. Don’t make too much fire. Git dry wood. These yer pine branches make too much smoke unless the’r dry. Go up thar by the rocks. Thar’s an old pine cut down thar, and it will make a good fire. I cut it down when I were here before, miss.” “Vy you ’vraid of too mooch vire, Penn?” asked Jan, looking doubtfully around. “Ye don’t know the Blackfeet as well as I do, or ye wouldn’t ask the question,” said Ben. “Wet wood makes too much of a smoke, and a Blackfoot brave could see a smoke as fur off as ye could see a mountain.” “Vell, vat ef he does?” “Then he would come and sculp ye by the light of yer fire, ef he didn’t make up his mind to roast ye a little fust. Ther’ a pizen, sneakin’, murderin’ set, an’ would make no more of takin’ the sculp of a Dutchman, then I would of skinnin’ a beaver. Thet’s all.”