by E. Nesbit
BEING BEAVERS; OR, THE YOUNG EXPLORERS (ARCTIC OR OTHERWISE)
You read in books about the pleasures of London, and about how peoplewho live in the country long for the gay whirl of fashion in townbecause the country is so dull. I do not agree with this at all. InLondon, or at any rate Lewisham, nothing happens unless you make ithappen; or if it happens it doesn't happen to you, and you don't knowthe people it does happen to. But in the country the most interestingevents occur quite freely, and they seem to happen to you as much as toany one else. Very often quite without your doing anything to help.
The natural and right ways of earning your living in the country aremuch jollier than town ones, too; sowing and reaping, and doing thingswith animals, are much better sport than fishmongering or bakering oroil-shopping, and those sort of things, except, of course, a plumber'sand gasfitter's, and he is the same, town or country--most interestingand like an engineer.
I remember what a nice man it was that came to cut the gas off once atour old house in Lewisham, when my father's business was feeling sopoorly. He was a true gentleman, and gave Oswald and Dicky over twoyards and a quarter of good lead piping, and a brass tap that onlywanted a washer, and a whole handful of screws to do what we liked with.We screwed the back door up with the screws, I remember, one night whenEliza was out without leave. There was an awful row. We did not mean toget her into trouble. We only thought it would be amusing for her tofind the door screwed up when she came down to take in the milk in themorning. But I must not say any more about the Lewisham house. It isonly the pleasures of memory, and nothing to do with being beavers, orany sort of exploring.
I think Dora and Daisy are the kind of girls who will grow up very good,and perhaps marry missionaries. I am glad Oswald's destiny looks atpresent as if it might be different.
We made two expeditions to discover the source of the Nile (or the northpole), and owing to their habit of sticking together and doing dull andpraiseable things--like sewing, and helping with the cooking, and takinginvalid delicacies to the poor and indignant--Daisy and Dora were whollyout of it both times, though Dora's foot was now quite well enough tohave gone to the north pole or the equator either. They said they didnot mind the first time, because they like to keep themselves clean; itis another of their queer ways. And they said they had had a better timethan us. (It was only a clergyman and his wife who called, and hotcakes for tea.) The second time they said they were lucky not to havebeen in it. And perhaps they were right. But let me to my narrating. Ihope you will like it. I am going to try to write it a different way,like the books they give you for a prize at a girls' school--I mean a"young ladies' school," of course--not a high school. High schools arenot nearly so silly as some other kinds. Here goes:
"'Ah, me!' sighed a slender maiden of twelve summers, removing herelegant hat and passing her tapery fingers lightly through her fairtresses, 'how sad it is--is it not?--to see able-bodied youths and youngladies wasting the precious summer hours in idleness and luxury.'
"The maiden frowned reproachingly, but yet with earnest gentleness, atthe group of youths and maidens who sat beneath an umbragipeaousbeech-tree and ate black currants.
"'Dear brothers and sisters,' the blushing girl went on, 'could we not,even now, at the eleventh hour, turn to account these wasted lives ofours, and seek some occupation at once improving and agreeable?'
"'I do not quite follow your meaning, dear sister,' replied thecleverest of her brothers, on whose brow--"
It's no use. I can't write like these books. I wonder how the books'authors can keep it up.
What really happened was that we were all eating black currants in theorchard, out of a cabbage leaf, and Alice said:
"I say, look here, let's do something. It's simply silly to waste a daylike this. It's just on eleven. Come on!"
And Oswald said, "Where to?"
This was the beginning of it.
The moat that is all round our house is fed by streams. One of them is asort of open overflow pipe from a good-sized stream that flows at theother side of the orchard.
It was this stream that Alice meant when she said:
"Why not go and discover the source of the Nile?"
Of course Oswald knows quite well that the source of the real liveEgyptian Nile is no longer buried in that mysteriousness where it lurkedundisturbed for such a long time. But he was not going to say so. It isa great thing to know when not to say things.
"Why not have it an arctic expedition?" said Dicky; "then we could takean ice-axe and live on blubber and things. Besides, it sounds cooler."
"Vote! vote!" cried Oswald. So we did.
Oswald, Alice, Noel, and Denny voted for the river of the ibis and thecrocodile. Dicky, H. O., and the other girls for the region of perennialwinter and rich blubber.
So Alice said, "We can decide as we go. Let's start, anyway."
The question of supplies had now to be gone into. Everybody wanted totake something different, and nobody thought the other people's thingswould be the slightest use. It is sometimes thus even with grown-upexpeditions. So then Oswald, who is equal to the hardest emergency thatever emerged yet, said:
"Let's each get what we like. The secret storehouse can be the shed inthe corner of the stable-yard where we got the door for the raft. Thenthe captain can decide who's to take what."
This was done. You may think it but the work of a moment to fit out anexpedition, but this is not so, especially when you know not whetheryour exploring party is speeding to Central Africa or merely to theworld of icebergs and the polar bear.
Dicky wished to take the wood-axe, the coal hammer, a blanket, and amackintosh.
H. O. brought a large faggot in case we had to light fires, and a pairof old skates he had happened to notice in the box-room, in case theexpedition turned out icy.
Noel had nicked a dozen boxes of matches, a spade, and a trowel, and hadalso obtained--I know not by what means--a jar of pickled onions.
Denny had a walking-stick--we can't break him of walking with it--a bookto read in case he got tired of being a discoverer, a butterfly net anda box with cork in it, a tennis-ball, if we happened to want to playrounders in the pauses of exploring, two towels and an umbrella in theevent of camping or if the river got big enough to bathe in or to befallen into.
Alice had a comforter for Noel in case we got late, a pair of scissorsand needle and cotton, two whole candles in case of caves. And she hadthoughtfully brought the table-cloth off the small table in thedining-room, so that we could make all the things up into one bundle andtake it in turns to carry it.
Oswald had fastened his master mind entirely on grub. Nor had the othersneglected this.
All the stores for the expedition were put down on the table-cloth andthe corners tied up. Then it was more than even Oswald's muscley armscould raise from the ground, so we decided not to take it, but only thebest-selected grub. The rest we hid in the straw loft, for there aremany ups and downs in life, and grub _is_ grub at any time, and so arestores of all kinds. The pickled onions we had to leave, but notforever.
Then Dora and Daisy came along with their arms round each other's necksas usual, like a picture on a grocer's almanac, and said they weren'tcoming.
It was, as I have said, a blazing hot day, and there were differences ofopinion among the explorers about what eatables we ought to have taken,and H. O. had lost one of his garters and wouldn't let Alice tie it upwith her handkerchief, which the gentle sister was quite willing to do.So it was a rather gloomy expedition that set off that bright sunny dayto seek the source of the river where Cleopatra sailed in Shakespeare(or the frozen plains Mr. Nansen wrote that big book about).
But the balmy calm of peaceful nature soon made the others lesscross--Oswald had not been cross exactly, but only disinclined to doanything the others wanted--and by the time we had followed the stream alittle way, and had seen a water-rat and shied a stone or two at him,harmony was restored. We did not hit the rat.
You will understand tha
t we were not the sort of people to have lived solong near a stream without plumbing its depths. Indeed, it was the samestream the sheep took its daring jump into the day we had the circus.And of course we had often paddled in it--in the shallower parts. Butnow our hearts were set on exploring. At least they ought to have been,but when we got to the place where the stream goes under a woodensheep-bridge, Dicky cried, "A camp! a camp!" and we were all glad to sitdown at once. Not at all like real explorers, who know no rest, day ornight, till they have got there (whether it's the north pole, or thecentral point of the part marked "_Desert of Sahara_" on old-fashionedmaps).
The food supplies obtained by various members were good, and plenty ofit. Cake, hard eggs, sausage-rolls, currants, lemon cheese-cakes,raisins, and cold apple dumplings. It was all very decent, but Oswaldcould not help feeling that the source of the Nile (or north pole) was along way off, and perhaps nothing much when you got there.
So he was not wholly displeased when Denny said, as he lay kicking intothe bank when the things to eat were all gone:
"I believe this is clay: did you ever make huge platters and bowls outof clay and dry them in the sun? Some people did in a book called _FoulPlay_, and I believe they baked turtles, or oysters, or something, atthe same time."
He took up a bit of clay and began to mess it about, like you do puttywhen you get hold of a bit. And at once the heavy gloom that had hungover the explorers became expelled, and we all got under the shadow ofthe bridge and messed about with clay.
"It will be jolly!" Alice said, "and we can give the huge platters topoor cottagers who are short of the usual sorts of crockery. That wouldreally be a very golden deed."
It is harder than you would think when you read about it, to make hugeplatters with clay. It flops about as soon as you get it any size,unless you keep it much too thick, and then when you turn up the edgesthey crack. Yet we did not mind the trouble. And we had all got ourshoes and stockings off. It is impossible to go on being cross when yourfeet are in cold water; and there is something in the smooth messinessof clay, and not minding how dirty you get, that would soothe thesavagest breast that ever beat.
After a bit, though, we gave up the idea of the huge platter and triedlittle things. We made some platters--they were like flower-pot saucers;and Alice made a bowl by doubling up her fists and getting Noel to slabthe clay on outside. Then they smoothed the thing inside and out withwet fingers, and it was a bowl--at least they said it was. When we'dmade a lot of things we set them in the sun to dry, and then it seemed apity not to do the thing thoroughly. So we made a bonfire, and when ithad burned down we put our pots on the soft, white, hot ashes among thelittle red sparks, and kicked the ashes over them and heaped more fuelover the top. It was a fine fire.
Then tea-time seemed as if it ought to be near, and we decided to comeback next day and get our pots.
As we went home across the fields Dicky looked back and said:
"The bonfire's going pretty strong."
We looked. It was. Great flames were rising to heaven against theevening sky. And we had left it a smouldering, flat heap.
"The clay must have caught alight," H. O. said. "Perhaps it's the kindthat burns. I know I've heard of fire-clay. And there's another sort youcan eat."
"Oh, shut up!" Dicky said, with anxious scorn.
With one accord we turned back. We all felt _the_ feeling--the one thatmeans something fatal being up and it being your fault.
"Perhaps," Alice said, "a beautiful young lady in a muslin dress waspassing by, and a spark flew on to her, and now she is rolling in agonyenveloped in flames."
We could not see the fire now, because of the corner of the wood, but wehoped Alice was mistaken.
But when we got in sight of the scene of our pottering industry we sawit was as bad nearly as Alice's wild dream. For the wooden fence leadingup to the bridge had caught fire, and it was burning like billyo.
Oswald started to run; so did the others. As he ran he said to himself,"This is no time to think about your clothes. Oswald, be bold!"
And he was.
Arrived at the site of the conflagration, he saw that caps or straw hatsfull of water, however quickly and perseveringly given, would never putthe bridge out, and his eventful past life made him know exactly thesort of wigging you get for an accident like this.
So he said, "Dicky, soak your jacket and mine in the stream and chuckthem along. Alice, stand clear, or your silly girl's clothes'll catch assure as fate."
Dicky and Oswald tore off their jackets, so did Denny, but we would notlet him and H. O. wet theirs. Then the brave Oswald advanced warily tothe end of the burning rails and put his wet jacket over the end bit,like a linseed poultice on the throat of a suffering invalid who has gotbronchitis. The burning wood hissed and smouldered, and Oswald fellback, almost choked with the smoke. But at once he caught up the otherwet jacket and put it on another place, and of course it did the trick,as he had known it would do. But it was a long job, and the smoke in hiseyes made the young hero obliged to let Dicky and Denny take a turn asthey had bothered to do from the first. At last all was safe; thedevouring element was conquered. We covered up the beastly bonfire withclay to keep it from getting into mischief again, and then Alice said:
"Now we must go and tell."
"Of course," Oswald said, shortly. He had meant to tell all the time.
So we went to the farmer who has the Moat House Farm, and we went atonce, because if you have any news like that to tell it only makes itworse if you wait about. When we had told him he said:
"You little----" I shall not say what he said besides that, because I amsure he must have been sorry for it next Sunday when he went to church,if not before.
We did not take any notice of what he said, but just kept on saying howsorry we were; and he did not take our apology like a man, but only saidhe dare said, just like a woman does. Then he went to look at hisbridge, and we went in to our tea. The jackets were never quite the sameagain.
Really great explorers would never be discouraged by the dare saying ofa farmer, still less by his calling them names he ought not to. Albert'suncle was away, so we got no double slating; and next day we startedagain to discover the source of the river of cataracts (or the region ofmountain-like icebergs).
We set out heavily provisioned with a large cake Daisy and Dora hadmade themselves and six bottles of ginger-beer. I think real explorersmost likely have their ginger-beer in something lighter to carry thanstone bottles. Perhaps they have it by the cask, which would comecheaper; and you could make the girls carry it on their back, like inpictures of the daughters of regiments.
We passed the scene of the devouring conflagration, and the thought ofthe fire made us so thirsty we decided to drink the ginger-beer andleave the bottles in a place of concealment. Then we went on, determinedto reach our destination, tropic or polar, that day.
Denny and H. O. wanted to stop and try to make a fashionablewatering-place at that part where the stream spreads out like asmall-sized sea, but Noel said, "No." We did not like fashionableness.
"_You_ ought to, at any rate," Denny said. "A Mr. Collins wrote an 'Odeto the Fashions,' and he was a great poet."
"The poet Milton wrote a long book about Satan," Noel said, "but I'm notbound to like _him_." I think it was smart of Noel.
"People aren't obliged to like everything they write about even, letalone read," Alice said. "Look at 'Ruin seize thee, ruthless king!' andall the pieces of poetry about war and tyrants and slaughteredsaints--and the one you made yourself about the black beetle, Noel."
By this time we had got by the pondy place and the danger of delay waspast; but the others went on talking about poetry for quite a field anda half, as we walked along by the banks of the stream. The stream wasbroad and shallow at this part, and you could see the stones and gravelat the bottom, and millions of baby fishes, and a sort ofskating-spiders walking about on the top of the water. Denny said thewater must be ice for them to be able to walk on it, and this
showed wewere getting near the north pole. But Oswald had seen a kingfisher bythe wood, and he said it was an ibis, so this was even.
When Oswald had had as much poetry as he could bear, he said, "Let's bebeavers and make a dam."
And everybody was so hot they agreed joyously, and soon our clothes weretucked up as far as they could go and our legs looked green through thewater, though they were pink out of it.
Making a dam is jolly good fun, though laborious, as books about beaverstake care to let you know.
Dicky said it must be Canada if we were beavers, and so it was on theway to the polar system, but Oswald pointed to his heated brow, andDicky owned it was warm for polar regions. He had brought the ice-axe(it is called the wood-chopper sometimes), and Oswald, ever ready andable to command, set him and Denny to cut turfs from the bank while weheaped stones across the stream. It was clayey here, or of coursedam-making would have been vain, even for the best-trained beaver.
When we had made a ridge of stones we laid turfs against them--nearlyacross the stream, leaving about two feet for the water to gothrough--then more stones, and then lumps of clay stamped down as hardas we could. The industrious beavers spent hours over it, with only oneeasy to eat cake in. And at last the dam rose to the level of the bank.Then the beavers collected a great heap of clay, and four of them liftedit and dumped it down in the opening where the water was running. It didsplash a little, but a true-hearted beaver knows better than to mind abit of a wetting, as Oswald told Alice at the time. Then with more claythe work was completed. We must have used tons of clay; there was quitea big long hole in the bank above the dam where we had taken it out.
When our beaver task was performed we went on, and Dicky was so hot hehad to take his jacket off and shut up about icebergs.
I cannot tell you about all the windings of the stream; it went throughfields and woods and meadows, and at last the banks got steeper andhigher, and the trees overhead darkly arched their mysterious branches,and we felt like the princes in a fairy tale who go out to seek theirfortunes.
And then we saw a thing that was well worth coming all that way for; thestream suddenly disappeared under a dark stone archway, and however muchyou stood in the water and stuck your head down between your knees youcould not see any light at the other end.
The stream was much smaller than where we had been beavers.
Gentle reader, you will guess in a moment who it was that said:
"Alice, you've got a candle. Let's explore."
This gallant proposal met but a cold response.
The others said they didn't care much about it, and what about tea?
I often think the way people try to hide their cowardliness behind theirteas is simply beastly.
Oswald took no notice. He just said, with that dignified manner, not atall like sulking, which he knows so well how to put on:
"All right. _I'm_ going. If you funk it you'd better cut along home andask your nurses to put you to bed."
So then, of course, they agreed to go. Oswald went first with thecandle. It was not comfortable; the architect of that dark, subterraneanpassage had not imagined any one would ever be brave enough to lead aband of beavers into its inky recesses, or he would have built it highenough to stand upright in. As it was, we were bent almost at a rightangle, and this is very awkward if for long.
But the leader pressed dauntlessly on, and paid no attention to thegroans of his faithful followers, nor to what they said about theirbacks.
It really was a very long tunnel, though, and even Oswald was not sorryto say, "I see daylight." The followers cheered as well as they could asthey splashed after him. The floor was stone as well as the roof, so itwas easy to walk on. I think the followers would have turned back if ithad been sharp stones or gravel.
And now the spot of daylight at the end of the tunnel grew larger andlarger, and presently the intrepid leader found himself blinking in thefull sun, and the candle he carried looked simply silly. He emerged, andthe others too, and they stretched their backs, and the word "Krikey"fell from more than one lip. It had indeed been a cramping adventure.Bushes grew close to the mouth of the tunnel, so we could not see muchlandscape, and when we had stretched our backs we went on up stream, andnobody said they'd had jolly well enough of it, though in more than oneyoung heart this was thought.
It was jolly to be in the sunshine again. I never knew before how coldit was underground. The stream was getting smaller and smaller.
Dicky said, "This can't be the way. I expect there was a turning to thenorth pole inside the tunnel, only we missed it. It was cold enoughthere."
But here a twist in the stream brought us out from the bushes, andOswald said:
"Here is strange, wild, tropical vegetation in the richest profusion.Such blossoms as these never opened in a frigid what's-its-name."
It was indeed true. We had come out into a sort of marshy, swampy placelike, I think, a jungle is, that the stream ran through, and it wassimply crammed with queer plants and flowers we never saw before orsince. And the stream was quite thin. It was torridly hot and softish towalk on. There were rushes and reeds and small willows, and it was alltangled over with different sorts of grasses--and pools here and there.We saw no wild beasts, but there were more different kinds of wild fliesand beetles than you could believe anybody could bear, and dragon-fliesand gnats. The girls picked a lot of flowers. I know the names of someof them, but I will not tell you them because this is not meant to beinstructing. So I will only name meadow-sweet, yarrow, loose-strife,lady's bed-straw, and willow herb--both the larger and the lesser.
Every one now wished to go home. It was much hotter there than innatural fields. It made you want to tear all your clothes off and playat savages, instead of keeping respectable in your boots.
But we had to bear the boots because it was so brambly.
It was Oswald who showed the others how flat it would be to go home thesame way we came; and he pointed out the telegraph wires in the distanceand said:
"There must be a road there, let's make for it," which was quite asimple and ordinary thing to say, and he does not ask for any credit forit.
So we sloshed along, scratching our legs with the brambles, and thewater squelched in our boots, and Alice's blue muslin frock was tornall over in these criss-cross tears which are considered so hard todarn.
We did not follow the stream any more. It was only a trickle now, so weknew we had tracked it to its source. And we got hotter and hotter andhotter, and the dews of agony stood in beads on our brows and rolleddown our noses and off our chins. And the flies buzzed and the gnatsstung, and Oswald bravely sought to keep up Dicky's courage, when hetripped on a snag and came down on a bramble-bush, by saying:
"_You_ see it _is_ the source of the Nile we've discovered. What pricenorth poles now?"
Alice said, "Ah, but think of ices! I expect Oswald wishes it _had_ beenthe pole, anyway--"
Oswald is naturally the leader, especially when following up what is hisown idea, but he knows that leaders have other duties besides justleading. One is to assist weak or wounded members of the expedition,whether polar or equatorish.
So the others had got a bit ahead through Oswald lending the totteringDenny a hand over the rough places. Denny's feet hurt him, because whenhe was a beaver his stockings had dropped out of his pocket, and bootswithout stockings are not a bed of luxuriousness. And he is oftenunlucky with his feet.
Presently we came to a pond, and Denny said:
"Let's paddle."
Oswald likes Denny to have ideas; he knows it is healthy for the boy,and generally he backs him up, but just now it was getting late and theothers were ahead, so he said:
"Oh, rot! come on."
Generally the Dentist would have; but even worms will turn if they arehot enough, and if their feet are hurting them.
"I don't care, I shall!" he said.
Oswald overlooked the mutiny and did not say who was leader. He justsaid:
"Well, don't be all day
about it," for he is a kind-hearted boy and canmake allowances.
So Denny took off his boots and went into the pool.
"Oh, it's ripping!" he said. "You ought to come in."
"It looks beastly muddy," said his tolerating leader.
"It is a bit," Denny said, "but the mud's just as cool as the water, andso soft it squeezes between your toes quite different to boots."
And so he splashed about, and kept asking Oswald to come along in.
But some unseen influence prevented Oswald doing this; or it may havebeen because both his bootlaces were in hard knots.
Oswald had cause to bless the unseen influence, or the bootlaces, orwhatever it was.
Denny had got to the middle of the pool, and he was splashing about andgetting his clothes very wet indeed, and altogether you would havethought his was a most envious and happy state. But alas! the brightestcloud has a waterproof lining. He was just saying:
"You _are_ a silly, Oswald. You'd much better--" when he gave ablood-piercing scream, and began to kick about.
"What's up?" cried the ready Oswald; he feared the worst from the wayDenny screamed, but he knew it could not be an old meat tin in thisquiet and jungular spot, like it was in the moat when the shark bitDora.
"I don't know, it's biting me. Oh, it's biting me all over my legs! Oh,what shall I do? Oh, it does hurt! Oh! oh! oh!" remarked Denny, amonghis screams, and he splashed towards the bank. Oswald went into thewater and caught hold of him and helped him out. It is true that Oswaldhad his boots on, but I trust he would not have funked the unknownterrors of the deep, even without his boots. I am almost sure he wouldnot have.
When Denny had scrambled and been hauled ashore, we saw with horror andamaze that his legs were stuck all over with large black slug-lookingthings. Denny turned green in the face--and even Oswald felt a bitqueer, for he knew in a moment what the black dreadfulnesses were. Hehad read about them in a book called _Magnet Stories_, where there was agirl called Theodosia, and she could play brilliant trebles on the pianoin duets, but the other girl knew all about leeches, which is much moreuseful and golden deedy. Oswald tried to pull the leeches off, but theywouldn't, and Denny howled so he had to stop trying. He remembered fromthe _Magnet Stories_ how to make the leeches begin biting--the girl didit with cream--but he could not remember how to stop them, and they hadnot wanted any showing how to begin.
"Oh, what shall I do? What shall I do? Oh, it does hurt! Oh, oh!" Dennyobserved, and Oswald said:
"Be a man! Buck up! If you won't let me take them off you'll just haveto walk home in them."
At this thought the unfortunate youth's tears fell fast. But Oswald gavehim an arm, and carried his boots for him, and he consented to buck up,and the two struggled on towards the others, who were coming back,attracted by Denny's yells. He did not stop howling for a moment, exceptto breathe. No one ought to blame him till they have had eleven leecheson their right leg and six on their left, making seventeen in all, asDicky said, at once.
It was lucky he did yell, as it turned out, because a man on theroad--where the telegraph wires were--was interested by his howls, andcame across the marsh to us as hard as he could.
When he saw Denny's legs he said:
"Blest if I didn't think so," and he picked Denny up and carried himunder one arm, where Denny went on saying "Oh!" and "It does hurt" ashard as ever.
Our rescuer, who proved to be a fine big young man in the bloom ofyouth, and a farm-laborer by trade, in corduroys, carried the wretchedsufferer to the cottage where he lived with his aged mother; and thenOswald found that what he had forgotten about the leeches was _salt_.The young man in the bloom of youth's mother put salt on the leeches,and they squirmed off, and fell with sickening, slug-like flops on thebrick floor.
Then the young man in corduroys and the bloom, etc., carried Denny homeon his back, after his legs had been bandaged up, so that he looked like"wounded warriors returning."
It was not far by the road, though such a long distance by the way theyoung explorers had come.
He was a good young man, and though, of course, acts of goodness aretheir own reward, still I was glad he had the two half-crowns Albert'suncle gave him, as well as his own good act. But I am not sure Aliceought to have put him in the Golden Deed book which was supposed to bereserved for Us.
Perhaps you will think this was the end of the source of the Nile (ornorth pole). If you do, it only shows how mistaken the gentlest readermay be.
The wounded explorer was lying with his wounds and bandages on the sofa,and we were all having our tea, with raspberries and white currants,which we richly needed after our torrid adventures, when Mrs. Pettigrew,the housekeeper, put her head in at the door and said:
"Please could I speak to you half a moment, sir," to Albert's uncle. Andher voice was the kind that makes you look at each other when thegrown-up has gone out, and you are silent, with your bread-and-butterhalf way to the next bite, or your teacup in mid flight to your lips.
It was as we supposed. Albert's uncle did not come back for a longwhile. We did not keep the bread-and-butter on the wing all that time,of course, and we thought we might as well finish the raspberries andwhite currants. We kept some for Albert's uncle, of course, and theywere the best ones too; but when he came back he did not notice ourthoughtful unselfishness.
He came in, and his face wore the look that means bed, and very likelyno supper.
He spoke, and it was the calmness of white-hot iron, which is somethinglike the calmness of despair. He said:
"You have done it again. What on earth possessed you to make a dam?"
"We were being beavers," said H. O., in proud tones. He did not see aswe did where Albert's uncle's tone pointed to.
"No doubt," said Albert's uncle, rubbing his hands through his hair. "Nodoubt! no doubt! Well, my beavers, you may go and build dams with yourbolsters. Your dam stopped the stream; the clay you took for it left achannel through which it has run down and ruined about seven pounds'worth of freshly reaped barley. Luckily the farmer found it out in timeor you might have spoiled seventy pounds' worth. And you burned a bridgeyesterday."
We said we were sorry. There was nothing else to say, only Alice added,"We didn't _mean_ to be naughty."
"Of course not," said Albert's uncle, "you never do. Oh, yes, I'll kissyou--but it's bed and it's two hundred lines to-morrow, and the lineis--'Beware of Being Beavers and Burning Bridges. Dread Dams.' It willbe a capital exercise in capital B's and D's."
We knew by that that, though annoyed, he was not furious; we went tobed.
I got jolly sick of capital B's and D's before sunset on the morrow.That night, just as the others were falling asleep, Oswald said:
"I say."
"Well," retorted his brother.
"There is one thing about it," Oswald went on, "it does show it was arattling good dam anyhow."
And filled with this agreeable thought, the weary beavers (or explorers,polar or otherwise) fell asleep.