“This friend of mine, the Laziest Beaver,” said Colonel, when Buddie stopped for a little rest, “is always going to do something, but never gets round to it. He’s been going to rebuild a dam for I don’t know how long, and he’s always talking about repairing his house, which fell down about his ears last summer. But he’d rather sit in the sun and tell stories and exchange news. He’s the greatest gossip in the woods—the crows are nothing to him—and every one that wants to find out anything goes straight to him.”
“Where does he live?” asked Buddie.
“Just a little way from here, at Beavertown. It used to be quite a village, but last year the beavers moved to a better place up the river. The Laziest Beaver was too lazy to follow them; so he lives all alone in his tumble-down house, by the side of his tumble-down dam, and lies out in the sun all day, and has just the laziest time in the world. Shall we move along?”
Their way now led downhill to the river, which, fortunately, it was not necessary to cross. A little distance up-stream a smaller river came in, and along the bank of this Colonel led the way to a meadow of tall wild grass.
This was Beavertown.
CHAPTER III
THE LAZIEST BEAVER
They found the Laziest Beaver at home—just as Colonel, the Yellow Dog, had promised—lying in the sun in front of his tumble-down dwelling, and fanning himself with lazy flaps of his broad tail. He nodded pleasantly as Colonel and Buddie approached, but made no attempt to rise for a more formal greeting.
“This is Buddie,” said the Yellow Dog, presenting her.
“Which Buddie?” asked the Laziest Beaver.
“Why, just Buddie.”