Free sample

Chapter I

Binney the Beaver

AND

CHAPTER I.

THE NICE HOME.

BINNEY was a young beaver, who lived with several brothers and sisters, and a great many aunts, uncles, and cousins, in a beautiful pond by a stream which empties into the Missouri a long way off to the north-west.

This was not a natural pond. Some years before, two beavers, whose house had been destroyed by the Indians, set out on a journey to found a new town. They travelled along at their leisure, living upon the tender bark of the low and cotton-wood shoots, which they found in great abundance, and looking for a home. They found no place to suit them for a great many days. One stream was too swift, another too slow; another was subject to great freshets, as was plainly shown by the heaps of driftwood which lay piled on the banks, and the great logs in the bed of the stream.

At last, however, after travelling till they were tired and almost discouraged, they came one morning to the banks of a large and clear brook. Willows and cotton-wood grew all around it, there were no signs of men anywhere about, and just in the shadiest, pleasantest place there was a long reach of still water.

"This will suit very nicely," said Mr. Beaver. "I have not seen such a pleasant place since we left home."

"No place can ever be to me like that old home," said Mrs. Beaver, sighing. "I do not feel any courage at all about beginning to build in this new, strange stream."

"O, you must not be downhearted," returned Mr. Beaver, cheerily. "We shall soon have a family about us again, and every thing will be as pleasant as before our misfortunes commenced. See how handily those young cotton-woods grow for our dam. We can never be at a loss for food here, as you know was sometimes the case in our old home. We ought to be thankful also that it is early spring instead of fall. We have all the summer before us in which to work, and I can see no reason why we should not have a very nice, pleasant home before winter comes upon us."

Mrs. Beaver sighed again, but she reflected that there is no use in crying for what cannot be helped; and as she really loved her husband, she did not wish to discourage him by fretting, so she put on a cheerful face, and set to work with a good will.

It was indeed needful to keep up a stout heart, for the two beavers had a deal of hard work before them. Their first care was to build up a dam to shut in the water and make a pond. They began operations by cutting down a great many young trees about as thick as a man's wrist. Then they cut off the branches, and stripped them of their bark, which they piled away in heaps for food in winter. With these trees and branches they built their dam, sticking the ends down into the mud at the bottom of the stream, weaving them firmly together with smaller sticks, long grass, and reeds, and plastering them neatly over with mud, so that the dam, when done, was quite water-tight. It was about ten feet wide at the bottom, and sloped to two feet at the top, and was so long as to go clear across the stream, and a good way up on either bank. All this was done at night, for beavers prefer to work at night, and sleep or play in the daytime.

You may perhaps wonder how the two beavers contrived to do so much work, but they knew beforehand just what they wished to accomplish, and they had tools well adapted to their uses. Their sharp teeth were their saws and axes, wherewith to cut down the trees, and strip them of their bark, while their paws and their broad, flat tails served for hoes and trowels, to dig up the mud, and spread it for mortar. *

* Some say the beavers never use their tails for trowels.

When Mrs. Beaver saw how nicely the work went on, she was quite cured of her low spirits, and by fall she had almost forgotten that she had ever lived anywhere else.

By the time cold weather came they had quit, finished their dam, and had also built themselves a very nice house. It was made of branches piled up cross-ways, and mixed with mud and stones, with a roof in the shape of a dome, and it was so strong and tight that no rain or snow could get through it. In this house they made very neat little beds of dried grass, and here they lived very happily, sleeping and playing, and eating the nice bark and roots which they had stored up in the fall.

CHAPTER II.

IDLERS DRIVEN OUT.

IN the spring, Mr. Beaver took a very long journey, as beavers are used to do at that time of the year; and when he came home he found that his wife had a nice little family of five young ones, big enough to run about and help in the work of the house. That summer two more pairs of beavers came and set up housekeeping on the banks of the stream. They were very good-natured, helpful people, willing to do their share of all the work which was going on, and Mr. and Mrs. Beaver gave them a warm welcome, showing them where the best bark grew, and where the white lily roots were sweetest, for beavers are usually very polite and kind to one another.

The next year there were many young beavers frisking about the dam and in the water, and in the course of time the colony grew to be a very large one. They had not been disturbed by hunters or trappers; they always had plenty to eat; they were kind to one another, and upon the whole, they were very happy.

However, nobody gets through the world without some trouble, and the beavers had their share. One year three or four of the young beavers refused to work at the dam, or at bringing in bark and branches for food. They did not like rooting in the mud, they said, or gnawing at branches till their jaws ached. They were made perfect slaves of, and they would stand it no longer. And with that they set up their backs, and showed their teeth, and tried to look very grand and independent, but they only succeeded in looking cross. Their fathers and mothers talked to them kindly about their faults, and then tried punishing them, but all did no good. They were just as idle and naughty as before.

When the other beavers saw this, they called a council to consult as to what was to be done; and after talking the matter over, they agreed that unless the idle beavers came to their senses, and were willing to do their fair share of the work, they must be driven from the village, and live by themselves as they best could.

The idlers said they did not care; they could live well enough anywhere. So the old beavers drove them out of the village, and would not let them come back any more. They also warned the other young beavers to have nothing to do with them in any way, for they were wise enough to know how soon good manners are spoiled by bad company.

So these idlers went away and lived in the woods, not very far from the beaver dam. They were too lazy and stupid to build nice houses, so they just scratched holes in the ground to sleep in, and spent their whole time in doing nothing at all, which is just the hardest work in the world when one has too much of it.

It was about two years after the idlers were driven from the village that Binney was born. As soon as he was able to notice anything, he found himself lying on a nice bed of hay with three other little beavers just like himself. They all had bright black eyes, short stout legs, very long strong fore-feet, and hind-feet webbed like those of a goose, having long claws, with which they soon learned to comb their soft fur, and keep it in nice order. They had also broad, flat tails, shaped like a mason's trowel, and clothed with scales instead of hair. They were merry little things, and soon began to have fine games of play with the other little beavers in the town. With these little friends they swam in the pond, dived from the dam, and ran about the banks of the stream all day long.

But they soon found out that life was not to be all play. As soon as they were big enough, their mothers began to teach them to work. First they learned to bring grass and straw for the nest, holding the load under their chins with one paw, and walking with the other three. Then they were taught to dive for mud and moss at the bottom of the pond, and at last to gnaw down twigs and sticks for the dam.

At first Binney thought it would be a fine thing to work like a grown-up beaver, but he soon found out that work is not as easy as play. After a time he began to be idle, and would slip away from his work to play in the woods on the bank of the stream. His mother talked to him very kindly about his fault, and told him what would be the consequence of it—that he would be driven from the town, and forced to live in the woods, where he would often be cold and hungry, and where none of his friends and relations would visit him, or speak to him.

Binney promised to be more industrious, and for a time was very good; but he pretty soon forgot his loving mother's advice and grew idle again, and the others began to look coldly upon him, and to forbid their children to play with him, for it is thought very mean and disgraceful in a beaver to be idle.

One day he was hanging about in the woods, whither he had been sent for some birch twigs with which to mend the house. His was not a hard or disagreeable task, for the twigs were small and tender, and the bark was sweet and pleasant to the taste; but Binney had learned to hate the very name of work. Still he did not dare to return without the twigs which he had been sent for, as his father had been angry with him that very morning, and said he would punish him severely unless he did better.

So he was hanging about the woods, as I have said, feeling cross and low spirited, wishing that his work was done, and yet unable to make up his mind to go about it. All at once, as he walked along, he came upon a beaver whom he had never met before.

CHAPTER III.

BAD COMPANIONS.

THE beaver that Binney met in the woods did not look at all like Binney's friends in the village. His fur was ragged and dirty, and full of burrs and straws, as though it had not been combed in a long time. His eyes were partly closed, as if he were fast asleep, and he lounged along in a careless, lazy way, very different from the active, busy pace of the beavers in the town.

"Hollo, young one!" cried he, as he caught sight of Binney. "Who are you, and what are you about here?"

Binney was not used to being addressed in this rude way, for beavers are usually very polite to each other, and at first he did not know what to reply.

"Can't you speak?" said the newcomer. "Do you live in the town, hey?"

"Yes," said Binney, finding his voice at last; "I was sent out here for some birch twigs."

The stranger began to laugh in a very rude way. "O, sent for twigs, were you! If I were a smart young fellow like you, I would be above being sent here and there, and working like a slave for all the town. I would take to the woods; and live by myself, and for myself! That's what I would do."

"But my mother says the wood-beavers often go cold and hungry, and that no decent beaver would speak to them," said Binney.

"What's that you say?" said the stranger, turning fiercely upon Binney. "Do you know, young one, I have a great mind to bite your head off? How dare you come here and be saucy to me?"

Binney was much alarmed, for the stranger looked very big and savage.

"Please, sir, I did not mean to be saucy," he said, humbly. "I did not know that you were a wood-beaver."

"You are a fool!" said the wood-beaver roughly. "The wood-beavers are much better off than such poor sneaks as you. I would not go into their town—no, not to have the whole of it. But you dare not say your life is your own, you are so afraid of your ma-a!", and he drawled out the word, and laughed in a very disagreeable manner.

Binney felt very much vexed, and so he ought to have been; but it was not in the right way. Instead of being angry at the wood-beaver for speaking so disrespectfully of his kind friends, he was vexed to think he should be laughed at, and that the wood-beaver should suppose he was afraid to do wrong.

"I am not a slave either!" said he. "And I won't work unless I please."

"O yes, that is all well enough to say now," replied the wood-beaver; "but you dare not go over to the other stream with me, to save your life."

"How far is it?" asked Binney.

"O, not very far! Just beyond these woods, and across a meadow. There are plenty of lily roots there, and nice red raspberries besides; but they will never do you any good, because you are afraid to go after them."

"I am not at all afraid," said Binney. "I will go this minute, if you will only show me the way."

"Come along with me then," said the wood-beaver. "Now you show some spirit. I should not wonder if you turned out a fine fellow after all."

Binney was just silly enough to be vastly pleased at being flattered by his companion, and they walked along together through the woods, talking as they went.

It was a long walk, and Binney was very tired before they reached the place; but he dared not say so, for fear the wood-beaver should laugh at him. At last, however, they reached the meadow, where they were joined by several other wood-beavers, as ragged, dirty, and ill-bred as his guide, who stared at Binney in a very rude manner, saying "Hollo! What young one is this dressed up so very fine?"

"It is one of the town-beavers," said Binney's friend; "he wanted to see a little of life, so I brought him along."

"Yes, to be a spy upon us, and then run home and tell tales," said a very large and rough looking fellow. "Better bite his head off, and stop his tattling once for all."

"You shall do no such thing," said Binney's friend. "We were all town-beavers once, and he is as good as the rest. Never mind, Binney, he shall not hurt you; you shall live with us, and learn to be free and bold as we are."

Binney did not like the prospects of living with the wood-beavers; but he thought they would be going home presently, and then he could slip away and run home to the village. I am sorry to say he began to think what sort of a story he should tell to excuse himself to his father, for like most idlers, he had already learned to make false excuses. But he made a sad mistake, as you will see by and by.

CHAPTER IV.

DISOBEDIENCE PUNISHED.

THE beavers played all day long about the pond, and in the meadow. Binney knew very well how to dive for the lily roots, and when his companions found this out they kept him busy enough. It was, "Binney, just get me a piece, there is a good fellow;" and "Binney, just take one more dive for me, and I will do as much for you some day," till Binney was almost tired out, and began to think he might a good deal better have got his twigs and gone home.

As the sun began to sink low in the sky he grew uneasy, and hinted to his new friend that they might as well be turning homeward.

"We are going to stay here to-night," said the wood-beaver, stretching himself and yawning. "One place is as much home as another to us. I say, Binney, just pull that burr out of my ear, will you?"

Binney pulled out the burr, and then said, trying very hard to speak bravely, "Well, I must go home at any rate, so good night, and thank you."

"Heyday!" cried the largest of the wood-beavers. "Not quite so fast, my young friend. You are not going back to the town to tell tales, and bring all your friends to our feeding ground. Not if I know it."

"No, indeed!" cried all the wood-beavers. "You came of your own free will, and now you must stay. There is no such thing as going back."

Poor Binney! He begged and prayed, but the wood-beavers only laughed at him, and abused him, so that at last he dared say no more, but made up his mind, though with a heavy heart, to spend the night away from home. He could not help crying bitterly as he thought of his dear kind father and mother waiting and looking for him; of the nice warm house, the good supper, and frolics in the pond by moonlight with the good little beavers of the town.

"O, if I had only minded my father, and gone straight home," said he; "but if I once get back, I will never be so naughty again." He did not know that he was never to see his pleasant home nor his kind father any more.

The next day was spent by the wood-beavers in eating, sleeping, and fighting among themselves. Binney found himself a perfect slave. It was, "Binney do this," "Binney do that," "Binney come here this minute, or I'll bite your head off!" till the poor little beaver was tired off his feet. He could not get the least chance to put his fur in order, which added to his discomfort, for he had been brought up to very neat habits. Once he began to comb out his fur a little, but the other beavers found him out, and laughed at him so much that he did not try it again.

Things went on in this way for two or three weeks and Binney grew more and more homesick every day, but he could not run away. The wood-beavers thought it a fine thing to have a slave to wait upon them, and they kept a close watch upon all his motions. One day, however, as he was sitting in a very sorrowful mood behind an old stump, where he had crept for a little rest, his first acquaintance, who had several times taken his part, came and sat down by his side.

"Binney," said he, "do you want to go home?"

"O, don't I though?" cried Binney.

"Come along then," said his friend; "I am going into the woods again, and will show you the way; but we must set out this minute, before they miss us. I do think they abuse you, that is the truth."

"O, I am so glad," said Binney, giving a great skip. "Now I shall see my dear father and mother once more."

"Well, do not make such a great noise about it," said the wood-beaver so gruffly that Binney was scared, and walked along quite meekly and silently for a while, till his friend said in a milder tone, "So you like the thought of going home, hey!"

"Yes, indeed," said Binney.

"Work and all?"

"Why, as to that, I have had to work a great deal harder since I left home than ever I did before, and have had plenty of cuffs and bites into the bargain. And besides, if you will excuse me for saying so—"

"Say away," said his friend.

"I do really think that town-beavers have better times than wood-beavers. To be sure, they have to work sometimes when they don't like it, but then each one has his own special task, and no one crowds or imposes on another. They have plenty of time for fun, and when they do play, they enjoy it very much."

"You did not think so when you were sent after the birch twigs," said the wood-beaver.

"No," said Binney, with a deep sigh; "but I have learned a great deal since that time."

"Well, little one, I think upon the whole you are right," said the wood-beaver; "I do believe you are."

"If you think so, why don't you come back to the town yourself?" said Binney, rather timidly.

The sample stops here

This is as far as the free sample of Binney the beaver, and other stories goes

You have read 5 of 9 chapters. Start your trial to keep reading all 9 chapters, tap any word for an instant translation, hear the audio narration, and save your progress across devices.

Start your trial & keep reading Back to book

Free sampleTap to translateAudio narration