Followers of the Trail

by Zoe Meyer

It was the same panther who had so nearly made a meal of Flat Tail several months before. The beast, finding food scarce, had drifted south far from its usual haunts and, locating the beaver lodges, had decided to winter in the locality. Following the man's trail the panther, too, stepped out upon the dam. It soon caught the faint, warm scent rising from the ventilating hole of a near-by lodge. Frantically it dug at the top of the dome, but it yielded no more than had the dam under the man's axe.

Baffled, the big cat gave up its useless scratching and again turned to the trail which had led it to the pond. As the beast came nearer, and the Hermit realized that it was probably made bold by hunger, he blessed the forethought which had led him to bring his axe along when he left his pile of firewood and struck off through the forest to visit the beaver pond.

The panther advanced, its body close to the ground and its great feet bearing it upon the crust as if it wore snowshoes. It was coming uncomfortably close and the Hermit began to experience a creepy sensation. He had little fear that, armed as he was, the beast would dare attack him in broad daylight, but nevertheless it gave him an unpleasant feeling to see his trail stalked.

It was evident that the panther had scented him. It stopped and crouched lower, motionless save for the tip of its long tail which waved back and forth in a way which fascinated the man. The beast seemed more curious than ferocious, but in spite of that the Hermit thought it high time to create a diversion.

Remembering the effect of his shout upon the lynx the day he had rescued Dave Lansing, the trapper, he was about to spring to his feet. Suddenly a deer came into sight, stopped an instant, terrified at sight of its hereditary enemy, and then leaped away with the panther in pursuit. Thus the Hermit was left free to return to his firewood and the safety of his cabin.

Before leaving, however, he scraped the snow from a spot upon the surface of the pond and, putting his face close to the ice, looked down. Through the clear water he saw the storehouse of the beavers and even caught a glimpse of a brown shadow which at once vanished into a dark passage. But, though the man lingered for some time, he caught no further glimpse of the pond's interesting inhabitants.

The winter was extremely cold. Many smaller streams and ponds froze solid, though the depth of the beaver pond prevented this calamity. When spring came at last and the ice broke up, the water began to rise. Higher and higher it came, fed by the melting ice and snow toward its source. The homes of the muskrats, some distance farther upstream, were flooded, many of the occupants being drowned and others driven for refuge to higher ground. The beavers had no fear, however, for old Ahmeek had prepared for just such an emergency.

Still the water rose. It reached and passed the highest mark that it had attained for many years. And then came the big freshet. The streams became torrents, hurling great masses of driftwood and even trees before them. Constant vigilance on the part of the beavers was required to keep the dam from washing away. When a drifting log or mass of brush caught, and threatened to wreck their hope, the entire colony turned out and literally "worked like beavers" tearing away the obstruction and allowing it to slide on down stream. Each small leak was found and mended before it had become large enough to be dangerous.

The water rose within an inch of the floor of the lodges. The Hermit, remembering the beavers and concerned for their safety, made another trip to the pond, noting with anxious eye, long before he reached it, the havoc wrought on every hand by the freshet. It was with a distinct sense of relief that he found the dam still intact and the domes of the lodges still above the water. He paused at some distance from the bank and watched the beavers as they went about their repairs without a thought for his presence. And he marveled anew at their skill and forethought.

Still the water rose, spreading out into a vast lake and reaching to the floor of the lodges. Now the beavers became alarmed and watched anxiously. For if the stream rose higher, the dam must go and the lodges be flooded. The crest had been reached, however, and the flood came no higher. Instead it began to recede, vanishing as rapidly as it had come. It left the low ground around the beaver pond a mass of sticky mud and tangled wreckage.