The boys now drove in a row of stakes against each log on the inner side, to form a crib, and were beginning to fill in the space with mud and stones.  They were digging and filling it up level as they went.  Clay was scarce and the work went slowly; the water, of course, rising as the wall arose, added to the difficulty.  But presently Yan said: 

“Hold on.  New scheme.  Let’s open her and dig a deep trench on one side so all the water will go by, then leave a clay wall to it” [the trench] “and dig a deep hole on the other side of it.  That will give us plenty of stuff for the dam and help to deepen the pond.”

Thus they worked.  In a week the crib was full of packed clay and stone.  Then came the grand finish—­the closing of this sluiceway through the dam.  It was not easy with the full head of water running, but they worked like beavers and finally got it stopped.

That night there was a heavy shower.  Next day when they came near they heard a dull roar in the woods.  They stopped and listened in doubt, then Yan exclaimed gleefully:  “The dam!  That’s the water running over the dam.”

They both set off with a yell and ran their fastest.  As soon as they came near they saw a great sheet of smooth water where the stony creek bottom had been and a steady current over the low place left as an overflow in the middle of the dam.

What a thrill of pleasure that was!

“Last in’s a dirty sucker.”

“Look out for my bad knee,” was the response.

The rest of the race was a mixture of stripping and sprinting and the boys splashed in together.

Five feet deep in the deep hole, a hundred yards long, and all their own doing.

“Now, wasn’t it worth it?” asked Yan, who had had much difficulty in keeping Sam steadily at play that looked so very much like work.

“Wonder how that got here?  I thought I left that in the teepee?” and Sam pointed to a log that he used for a seat in the teepee, but now it was lodged in the overflow.

Yan was a good swimmer, and as they played and splashed, Sam said:  “Now I know who you are.  You can’t hide it from me no longer.  I suspicioned it when you were working on the dam.  You’re that tarnal Redskin they call ‘Little Beaver.’”

“I’ve been watching you,” retorted Yan, “and it seems to me I’ve run up against that copper-coloured scallawag—­’Young-Man-Afraid-of-a-Shovel.’”

[Illustration:  The dam was a great success]

“No, you don’t,” said Sam.  “Nor I ain’t ’Bald-Eagle-Settin’-
on-a-Rock-with-his-Tail-Hangin’-over-the-Edge,’ nuther.  In fact, I don’t keer to be recognized just now.  Ain’t it a relief to think the cattle don’t have to take that walk any more?”

Sam was evidently trying to turn the subject, but Yan would not be balked.  “I heard Si call you ‘Woodpecker’ the other day.”