"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.
"Let's get the burros, now, and I'll show you a place where we can lunch while I tell you how Grandfather and I got to know each other so well," suggested Polly.
As the girls rode along the up-trail, Polly told the story.
[A]"A few years ago, while out adventuring, I found this colony of beavers. I wanted father to come with me and see them, but he was too busy that year.
[A] A true story.