STORY II

TOODLE CUTS A TREE

"Hey, Toodle, wake up! Wake up!" called Noodle Flat-tail, the little beaver boy, to his brother one morning. "Wake up! Breakfast is ready!"

Toodle turned over on the bed of white birch chips in the beaver house that was built in the middle of the pond of water, and said, sleepily:

"Oh, please let me alone, Noodle. I don't want to open my eyes yet. Let me sleep!"

"But don't you know what we're going to do today?" asked Noodle. "Have you forgotten what papa said?"

"Oh, it is a picnic? Are we going on a picnic?" asked Toodle, and this time he sat up on his tail and rubbed the sleepy feeling out of his eyes with his handlike paws.

"No, it isn't exactly a picnic," answered Noodle, as he combed out his fur with his hind claws so as to be nice and neat for breakfast. "But papa said he'd show us how to cut down a big tree today. Don't you want to learn how to do that?"

"Indeed I do!" cried Toodle, and he rolled from his bed in such a hurry that he nearly fell out of the front door, which led into the water. In that case Toodle would have had a swim before breakfast.

Not that he would have minded that much, for, like all beavers, he loved being in the water just as much as being on land. In fact, beavers, when they wear any clothes at all, as they have to, in stories of course, wear a kind that water cannot hurt—sort of rubber garments, you know.

"Oh, goodie!" cried Toodle. "That's what I want to do—cut down a tree," and he opened his mouth and felt his four sharp, orange-colored front teeth that were purposely made for gnawing. They were always sharp, too, and made in such a way that when they grew dull they sharpened themselves. No scissors-grinder ever had to come to the beaver colony to sharpen their teeth. Nature did that for the queer animals.

"Let's see who'll be first at breakfast," cried Noodle, and then he and his brother washed their paws and faces, brushed some dirt off their broad, flat tails, combed out their fur until it shone like Grandfather Goosey Gander's silk hat, and went into the dining-room, where Mamma Flat-tail was getting breakfast for her husband and for Grandpa Whackum, the oldest beaver of them all.

"Good morning, Toodle and Noodle," said their papa, as he helped himself to some willow bark pancakes, flavored with water-lily root sauce. "You are a little late this morning, and if you are going to be working beavers, and learn how to cut down trees, you must get around earlier than this."

"I should say so!" exclaimed Grandpa Whackum, as he spread some watercress butter on his piece of birch bark bread. "Why, when I was a boy I used to get up before breakfast every morning, and cut down two or three trees. Then I'd float them down the canal to the dam we were building."

"Well, anyhow, we got up before breakfast," said Toodle, winking at his brother.

"Yes, but you haven't chopped even a tooth-pick," laughed their mamma.

"What's a canal, Grandpa?" asked Noodle, who wanted to learn all he could about beaver work.

"Oh, it's like a little stream of water, or a brook," said the old gentleman beaver, "only it's deeper, and we have to make it ourselves. We cut through the dirt and grass and take out the stones, and make a place for the water to run from one pond to another. Then we can float our logs through the canal, just as you boys play float your toy ships."

"I see," said Noodle, and he made up his mind he would soon dig a canal.

Well, the two little beaver boys ate their breakfast, and then got ready to go with their papa who was to give them their first lesson in cutting down a tree. Grandpa Whackum, who, as I told you before, used to whack on the ground with his tail to give warning of danger, went along also.

Mrs. Flat-tail stayed home to do the dishes in her kitchen. Of course, not all beaver families have a house with as many rooms in it as the Flat-tails had. But then Mr. and Mrs. Flat-tail were quite rich. Most beavers have only one room in their house.

So Mr. Flat-tail, the two boys, Toodle and Noodle, and Grandpa Whackum swam out of the front door of the water-house and across the pond to a little wood where some sweet willow trees grew. This was near the place where the wolf had nearly caught the two boy beavers the day before, as I told you in the first story. But now, with their papa and grandpa beavers to look after them, Toodle and Noodle were not afraid.

"Now, Toodle," said Mr. Flat-tail, when they had come out of the water and were all waddling along on land, "I'll give you a lesson in tree-cutting first. Then I'll show Noodle. Meanwhile, Noodle, you can go with Grandpa Whackum and get some fresh aspen bark for dinner."

So Grandpa Whackum and Noodle went off to another place, while Papa Flat-tail began to give Toodle his first lesson.

"We'll cut this tree," said Mr. Flat-tail, as he put his paw on one that was about as big around as a clothes post in your yard.

"Oh. I never can cut down such a big tree," said Toodle. "It would take me a week."

"Nonsense!" exclaimed Mr. Flat-tail. "You don't know what you can do until you try. Now get a good seat on your tail and reach up with your four sharp front teeth and bite into the tree. Pull off the slivers and chips, and soon you will have cut through the trunk and the tree will fall."

"Gracious!" cried Toodle, "I hope it doesn't fall on me. It's no fun to have a tree fall on you."

"Of course not," laughed Mr. Flat-tail. "But that is what you must look out for, Toodle. Don't let the tree fall on you, or on any one else. And when you see that it is just ready to topple over, whack on the ground with your tail, just as your grandpa does. That will tell every one else around you to get out of the way. And another thing. Always pick out a tree that won't fall on top of another and get all tangled up, so it can't be moved."

"Will this tree do that?" asked Toodle, looking up into the top of the tree his papa wanted him to cut down.

"No," said Mr. Flat-tail, "it will not. Begin now, Toodle. This tree will fall just right."

Toodle thought he could never cut down such a large tree, but then he was a brave little beaver boy, and he was not going to give up without trying. So, sitting on his big, thick, broad tail, which, as I have told you is like a stool, he began. Into the soft wood he sank his sharp orange-colored front teeth, and soon the bark and chips began to fly, just as they do when a woodman cuts a log.

Mr. Flat-tail saw that his little son was learning his lesson well, so he said:

"Now, Toodle, I'll go over here and cut down a large tree by myself. But don't forget what I told you about whacking your tail on the ground just before your tree falls."

"I won't," promised Toodle.

Well, he was cutting and cutting away with his teeth, and then he began to think what fun he and his brother would have that afternoon, playing water-tag.

And Toodle was thinking so much about the fun that he forgot all about what his papa had told him. All of a sudden he heard a sound he knew well.

"Whack! Whack! Thud! Thud!" echoed through the woods.

"That's Grandpa Whackum!" exclaimed Toodle. "Good gracious sakes alive! There must be some danger. I must run!"

Poor Toodle started to run, but alas he was not quick enough. Down crashed the tree he had been cutting, and one limb struck him on the back, pinning him fast to the ground. Poor Toodle could not move. It was just as though he had been caught in a trap.

"Oh, dear!" he cried. "Oh, dear! My tree fell on me!"

And had it not been that Grandpa Whackum and Papa Flat-tail were there in the woods Toodle might never have gotten loose. But the two old beaver gentlemen soon came up and gnawed through the tree branches so Toodle could get up. His brother Noodle helped, too.

"Why didn't you watch out to see when your tree was going to fall?" asked Papa Flat-tail when they were on their way home again.

"I—I forgot," said Toodle, sort of ashamed-like.

"Well, if I hadn't seen it falling, and whacked on the ground with my tail," said his grandpa, "you might have been killed. Be more careful after this."

Toodle said he would, and he was quite proud after all that he had cut down a tree all by himself. Then they all swam home.

And on the next page, if the shoe horn doesn't blow so loudly that it wakes up the rubber doll in the puppy dog's hammock, I'll tell you about Noodle building a dam.