It may be that the beavers discussed the matter fully among themselves.  It is possible that Umisk and his playmates told their parents of their adventure, and of how Baree had made no move to harm them when he could quite easily have caught them.  It is also more than likely that the older beavers who had fled from Baree that morning gave an account of their adventures, again emphasizing the fact that the stranger, while frightening them, had shown no disposition to attack them.  All this is quite possible, for if beavers can make a large part of a continent’s history, and can perform engineering feats that nothing less than dynamite can destroy, it is only reasonable to suppose that they have some way of making one another understand.

However this may be, courageous old Beaver Tooth took it upon himself to end the suspense.

It was early in the afternoon that for the third or fourth time Baree walked out on the dam.  This dam was fully two hundred feet in length, but at no point did the water run over it, the overflow finding its way through narrow sluices.  A week or two ago Baree could have crossed to the opposite side of the pond on this dam, but now—­at the far end—­Beaver Tooth and his engineers were adding a new section of dam, and in order to accomplish their work more easily, they had flooded fully fifty yards of the low ground on which they were working.

The main dam held a strange fascination for Baree.  It was strong with the smell of beaver.  The top of it was high and dry, and there were dozens of smoothly worn little hollows in which the beavers had taken their sun baths.  In one of these hollows Baree stretched himself out, with his eyes on the pond.  Not a ripple stirred its velvety smoothness.  Not a sound broke the drowsy stillness of the afternoon.  The beavers might have been dead or asleep, for all the stir they made.  And yet they knew that Baree was on the dam.  Where he lay, the sun fell in a warm flood, and it was so comfortable that after a time he had difficulty in keeping his eyes open to watch the pond.  Then he fell asleep.

Just how Beaver Tooth sensed this fact is a mystery.  Five minutes later he came up quietly, without a splash or a sound, within fifty yards of Baree.  For a few moments he scarcely moved in the water.  Then he swam very slowly parallel with the dam across the pond.  At the other side he drew himself ashore, and for another minute sat as motionless as a stone, with his eyes on that part of the dam where Baree was lying.  Not another beaver was moving, and it was very soon apparent that Beaver Tooth had but one object in mind—­getting a closer observation of Baree.  When he entered the water again, he swam along close to the dam.  Ten feet beyond Baree he began to climb out.  He did this with great slowness and caution.  At last he reached the top of the dam.