“Oh, you mean wagging his tail!” barked Don. “Well, I do that myself when I feel glad. I guess one of your beaver friends must feel glad.”
“No, it isn’t that,” went on Toto. “Whenever any of the beavers thumps his tail on the ground it means there’s danger around, and all of us who hear it run and hide. You’d better come under this rock with me. Then you’ll be out of danger.”
Once more the thumping sound echoed through the woods.
“Better come under here with me,” advised Toto.
“Well, I guess I will,” barked Don.
No sooner was he under the big rock with Toto than, all of a sudden, there was a loud crash, and a great tree fell almost on the place in the woods where Toto and Don had been standing talking.
“My goodness!” barked Don, speaking as dogs do. “It’s a good thing we were under this rock, Toto, or else that tree would have fallen on us! Did you know it was going to fall?”
“Well, no, not exactly. My brother and I have been practicing on gnawing a tree this morning, but ours isn’t cut down yet. My father is going to finish cutting it, and show Sniffy and me how it is done. But he promised not to cut all the way through until I got back. So I don’t believe it was our tree that fell.”
“Is it all right for us to come out now?” asked Don. Though he was older than the beaver boy, he felt that perhaps Toto knew more about the woods—especially when tree-cutting was going on.
Toto sat up on his tail under the big rock and listened with his little ears. He heard the beavers, which were all about, talking among themselves, and he and Don heard some of them say: