On the way back to their rock of observation, Polly said, "Beavers are slow and awkward on land so that the agile panther, the alert wildcat, or wolves and bears, form a constant menace to them. Because of their unwieldy and short legs, they cannot escape quickly, but in water they are wonderful swimmers, so, water being necessary to their safety, they build their huts on the dams that will not bear up other wild animals. If their dams were constructed solidly, the beavers would soon be extinct, as forest savages would crawl over and glut on the helpless prey." "Didn't you say we could follow those other ones that went up-stream?" asked Eleanor. "Yes, come on," replied Polly, leading the way for some distance before seeing a sign of a beaver again. Then suddenly, she clutched hold of Eleanor's arm. "Ah, there's Grandfather, hard at work!" "Where--which?" cried Eleanor, eagerly. "The one with a limp and a twisted back!" The girls had reached a place where the stream widened and here they found a great number of beavers at work. Some cutting, some dragging, others swimming with aspens, willows and alders, and all ordered about by an old crippled beaver. But despite his twisted back and decided halt in gait, he moved about quicker than the others, showing them where to place, how to saw, when to cut the aspens, and other important details of construction. "There are a lot of pines, Polly--why doesn't he use them?" "A beaver doesn't like the smelly, pitchy wood, so they never cut them unless they have to clear a roadway from an aspen grove to the stream of water." "Then they ought to use all those trees already down. There are lots that have been felled by forest fires, I guess." "There again they show their wisdom," explained Polly. "A beaver never cuts dead wood as it dulls and injures his teeth. And dead wood does not last like live trees, either." At this moment, Grandfather Beaver seemed to sniff a familiar as well as a doubtful presence. He lifted his nose high and thumped his tail for an assistant. Leaving commands with this beaver, the Grandfather went into the stream and swam away. Eleanor was sorry to lose sight of him, but almost before she could speak, the old fellow rose laboriously from the water just in front of her. He waited, sniffing anxiously, but found a stranger with his friend, so he half-slid back into the stream. Polly made strange sounds and ran down towards him. To Eleanor's amazement the old fellow actually expressed joy at seeing a friend. He emitted peculiar sounds and Polly stood a few feet away uttering queer sounds, too. Then he sent her a look of love--if there ever was one--and after this welcome he slid back into the water to continue the work as overseer. "Polly Brewster--I never in all my life!" gasped Eleanor. Polly laughed as she watched her beaver join the workers and scold them for laziness while he was absent visiting a friend.