With that
skill for which they are so remarkable, they built it so that it would
protect them from cold, from water, and from their foes. When it was
completed, they were delighted with it, and paddled round joyously in the
pond above, expressing their pleasure to each other in true beaver style.
In this colony there was one young beaver, by the name of Flat Tail. His
father, whose name was Mud Dauber, had been a celebrated beaver, who,
having very superior teeth, could gnaw through trees with great rapidity.
Old Mud Dauber had distinguished himself chiefly, however, by saving the
dam on three separate occasions in time of flood. He had done this by his
courage and prudence, always beginning to work as soon as he saw the
danger coming, without waiting till the damage had become too great to
repair.
But his son, this young fellow Flat Tail, was a sorry fellow. As long as
old Mud Dauber lived, he did pretty well, but as soon as his father died
Flat Tail set up for somebody great. Whenever any one questioned his
pretensions, he always replied:
"I am Mud Dauber's son. I belong to the best blood in the colony."
He utterly refused to gnaw or build. He was meant for something better,
he said.
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