"We always take a doctor's pocket-case when going on a trip, and father now took it out, so I knew the beaver was not dead.
"'Poll, try to come over here and bring a pan, sheath-knife, and some hartshorn from the pack.'
"I did as I was told, and stood helping father when the beaver came too—after getting a big whiff of hartshorn. We washed the torn flesh with water, and father poured on something from a bottle that made the old fellow squirm, but he sensed that we were helping him and he offered no resistance.
"Well, Nolla, when we were done with our surgical work, you just ought to have seen that beaver's gratitude shining from his round eyes.
"When he had recovered sufficiently to start for home, father swam beside him. And it was well he did for the poor fellow could not have made it alone. Father towed him across the pond and left him on the dam. There, the boss (for he was the boss of the colony) made a strange sound and instantly, a score of beavers came out.
"Meantime, father had left him alone while I stood a distance away and watched the scene eagerly. As many beavers as could get near him, managed to roll and push him up on the dam where he lay stretched out.
"Father did not think the poor thing would recover, but I thought he would, so we went back the next day, but he had disappeared.
"We wished we could find out in some way, whether our friend was recovering or whether he had died and was buried by his family. So father decided to creep out on the dam and investigate. I went, too, and no sooner had we tried to make the same queer sound the Grandfather had made that day, than a beaver poked his nose out of a hut and sniffed. Quickly he disappeared again, but in a few moments, he came out and stood quite close to us making queer sounds at us. He was not afraid, so we took it that he was reporting on the health of our friend.
"We did not see Grandfather again that Summer, so early last Spring I went to visit my colony, and there was my friend, bossing things as usual. But his back was crooked and he had to walk with a lame twist, so I suppose that lion injured his backbone.
"I made a queer sound and he listened. He recognized me and swam over to thump his tail on the ground in front of my rock. I was so delighted that I rushed home and brought father over. Then you should have seen that beaver! He squirmed, and barked, and thumped his tail. It was like the meeting of a long-lost friend. Father was so impressed by the incident that he went to Denver and secured permission from the Government Land Survey Office to establish a permanent reserve here for the beavers. Now they have law protection and may rest unmolested by hunters or trappers."