Bright and early one morning Balser, Tom, and Jim, and last, but by no means least, Tige and Prince, crossed Blue River, and started in a northwestern direction toward a point on Brandywine where a number of beaver dams were known to exist, ten miles distant from the Brent cabin. [Illustration: EN ROUTE FOR THE CASTLE.] Tom and Tige drew one of the sleds, and Balser and Prince drew the other. During the first part of the trip, Jim would now and then lend a helping hand, but toward the latter end of the journey he said he thought it would be better for him to ride upon one of the sleds to keep the load from falling off. Balser and Tom, however, did not agree with him, nor did the dogs; so Jim walked behind and grumbled, and had his grumbling for his pains, as usually is the case with grumblers. [Illustration] Two or three hours before sunset the boys reached Brandywine, a babbling little creek in springtime, winding its crooked rippling way through overhanging boughs of water elm, sycamore, and willows, but, at the time of our heroes’ expedition, frozen over with the mail of winter. It is in small creeks, such as Brandywine, that beavers love to make their dams. Our little caravan, upon reaching Brandywine, at once took to the ice and started up-stream along its winding course. Jim had grown tired. “I don’t believe you fellows know where you’re going,” said he. “I don’t see any place to camp.” “You’ll see it pretty quickly,” said Balser; and when they turned a bend in the creek they beheld a huge sycamore springing from a little valley that led down to the water’s edge. “There’s our home,” said Balser. The sycamore was hollow, and at its roots was an opening for a doorway. Upon beholding the tree Jim gave a cry of delight, and was for entering their new home at once, but Balser held him back and sent in the dogs as an exploring advance guard. Soon the dogs came out and informed the boys that everything within the tree was all right, and Balser and Tom and Jim stooped low and entered upon the possession of their castle on Brandywine. The first task was to sweep out the dust and dry leaves. This the boys did with bundles of twigs rudely fashioned into brooms. The dry leaves and small tufts of black hair gave evidence all too strongly that the castle which the boys had captured was the home of some baron bear who had incautiously left his stronghold unguarded. Jim spoke of this fact with unpleasant emphasis, and was ready to “bet” that the bear would come back when they were all asleep, and would take possession of his castle and devour the intruders. “_What_ will you bet?” said Tom. “I didn’t say I would bet anything. I just said I’d bet, and you’ll see I’m right,” returned Jim.