PADDY HAS MANY VISITORS
Paddy the Beaver knew perfectly well that he would have visitors just
as soon as he began to build his dam. He expected a lot of them. You
see, he knew that none of them ever had seen a Beaver at work unless
perhaps it was Prickly Porky the Porcupine, who also had come down
from the North. So as he worked he kept his ears open, and he smiled
to himself as he heard a little rustle here and then a little rustle
there. He knew just what those little rustles meant. Each one meant
another visitor. Yes, Sir, each rustle meant another visitor, and yet
not one had shown himself.
Paddy chuckled. "Seems to me that you are dreadfully afraid to show
yourselves," said he in a loud voice, just as if he were talking to
nobody in particular. Everything was still. There wasn't so much as a
rustle after Paddy spoke. He chuckled again. He could just _feel_ ever
so many eyes watching him, though he didn't see a single pair. And he
knew that the reason his visitors were hiding so carefully was because
they were afraid of him. You see, Paddy was much bigger than most of the
little meadow and forest people, and they didn't know what kind of a
temper he might have. It is always safest to be very distrustful of
strangers. That is one of the very first things taught all little meadow
and forest children.
Of course, Paddy knew all about this. He had been brought up that way.
"Be sure, and then you'll never be sorry" had been one of his mother's
favorite sayings, and he had always remembered it. Indeed, it had saved
him a great deal of trouble. So now he was perfectly willing to go right
on working and let his hidden visitors watch him until they were sure
that he meant them no harm. You see, he himself felt quite sure that
none of them was big enough to do him any harm. Little Joe Otter was
the only one he had any doubts about, and he felt quite sure that Little
Joe wouldn't try to pick a quarrel. So he kept right on cutting trees,
trimming off the branches, and hauling the trunks down to the dam he
was building. Some of them he floated down the Laughing Brook. This
was easier.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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