The beavers were willing. They set to work getting quantities of the juiciest bark for Grasshopper, who was delighted with this lazy life, and did little more than eat or sleep. Bigger and bigger he grew, till at last he was ten times the size of Ahmeek, and could barely manage to move around in his lodge. He was perfectly happy.
But one day the beaver who kept watch up above, among the rushes of the pond, came swimming to the lodge in a state of great excitement.
"The hunters are after us," he panted. "It is indeed Man-a-bo-zho himself, with his hunters. They are breaking down our dam!"
Even as he spoke, the water in the pond sank lower and lower; the next moment came the tramping of feet, as the hunters leapt upon the roof of the lodge, trying to break it open.
All the beavers but Grasshopper scampered out of the lodge, and escaped into the stream, where they hid themselves
in some deep pools, or swam far down with the current. Grasshopper did his best to follow them, but could not. The doorway was too small for his big, fat body; when he attempted to go through it, he found himself stuck fast.
Then the roof gave way, and the head of an Indian appeared.
"Ty-au!" he called. "Tut-ty-au! See what's here! This must be Me-shau-mik, the King of the beavers." Man-a-bo-zho came, and gave one look.
"It's Grasshopper!" he cried. "I can see through his tricks. It's Grasshopper in the skin of a beaver."