And so one day in autumn, when the beavers were going out in search of
food for winter use, as Flat Tail was good for nothing else, they set him
to mind the dam. After they had started, Flat Tail's uncle, old Mr.
Webfoot, turned back and told his nephew to be very watchful, as there
had been a great rain on the head-waters of Silver Creek, and he was
afraid there would be a flood.
"Be very careful," said Webfoot, "about the small leaks."
"Pshaw," said Flat Tail, "who are you talking to? I am Mud Dauber's son,
and do you think I need your advice?"
After they had gone the stream began to rise. Little sticks and leaves
were eddying round in the pool above. Soon the water came up faster, to
the great delight of the conceited young beaver, who was pleased with the
opportunity to show the rest what kind of stuff he was made of. And
though he disliked work, he now began to strengthen the dam in the middle
where the water looked the most threatening. But just at this point the
dam was the strongest, and, in fact, the least in danger. Near the shore
there was a place where the water was already finding its way through. A
friendly kingfisher who sat on a neighboring tree warned him that the
water was coming through, but always too conceited to accept of counsel,
he answered:
"Oh, that's only a small leak, and near the shore.
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