Chapter 3

Now, Brownie Beaver had begun to cut down a tree the night before. Something had interrupted him and he had left the tree not quite gnawed through and needing only a few more bites to bring it down. He was intending to finish his task soon after dark--which was the time he liked best for working.

Accordingly, after Brownie had finished his supper and had called at every house in the village to talk over the visit of the strange man, he swam to the shore of the pond and made his way to the slanting tree, which stood a short distance from the water.

It was quite dark. And that was what Brownie liked, because he could work without being disturbed--at least, that was what he thought.

Since he could see quite well in spite of the dark he had no trouble in finding his tree. And he lost no time in setting to work on it again.

He began to gnaw at it once more. But he hadn't moved more than half-way around the tree-trunk when something happened that almost frightened him out of his skin.

Right out of the darkness came a blinding flash of light. And at the same time a queer _click_ sounded in the bushes close by.

Just for a moment Brownie Beaver was stiff with fear. But when the darkness closed in upon him again he ran for his life toward the pond. And plunging into the water he swam quickly to the bottom and hurried up his winding hall into his bedroom, where he crouched trembling upon his bed, wondering whether he had been shot.

Brownie knew that at night a gun made a flash of light. But this gun (if it was a gun) made no roar such as was made by the guns Brownie had sometimes heard at a distance in the woods. He wished that old Grandaddy Beaver was there. For he did not doubt that the old gentleman could tell him exactly what had happened.

XV

JASPER JAY'S STORY

After the blinding flash of light and the queer click had sent Brownie Beaver hurrying home from his partly gnawed tree, he stayed in his house for a long time before he ventured out again.

Indeed, the night was half gone when he at last he stole forth to find Grandaddy Beaver and tell him about his awful fright.

Brownie found the old gentleman resting after several hours' work upon the big dam. And when young Brownie told Grandaddy what had happened, the old gentleman didn't know just what to think.

"It couldn't have been a moonbeam," he said, "because there's no moon to-night. And I don't see how it could have been a gun, because there was no roar.... Did you hear a sort of whistle?" he asked. "Anything that sounded like a bullet passing over your head?"

Brownie Beaver shuddered at the mere mention of a bullet.

"I heard nothing but that odd click," he replied.

"That's what a gun sounds like when it's cocked," said Grandaddy Beaver. "But with a gun, the click comes first, the flash next, and the roar last of all. And here you tell me the flash came first, the click next, and there was no roar at all.... What's a body a-going to think, I'd like to know? It wasn't a gun--that's sure. And if you want to know what I say about it, why--I say that it was a very strange thing that happened to you. And I'd keep away from that tree for a long time."

"I had made up my mind that I'd do that," Brownie told him. And then he went home again. But he never went to sleep until almost noon the following day; for whenever he closed his eyes he seemed to see that blinding flash of light again.

When Jasper Jay came on Saturday afternoon to tell Brownie Beaver what had happened in the world during the past week he had an astounding piece of news.

"Here's something about you," Jasper told Brownie, as soon as he could catch his breath. Jasper had flown faster than usual that day, because he had such interesting news. "Your picture," he told Brownie, "is in the photographer's window, way over in the town where Farmer Green goes sometimes."

Brownie Beaver gave Jasper a quick look.

"I've often suspected," he said, "that you don't always tell me the truth. And now I know it. I've never been to the photographer's in my life. So how could he have my picture, I should like to know?"

"But you don't have to go to the photographer's to have your picture taken," Jasper Jay retorted. "Why couldn't the photographer come to you?"

"I suppose he could," Brownie Beaver said. "But he's never been here."

Jasper Jay gave one of his loud laughs.

"That--" he said--"that is just where you are mistaken. And when I explain how I came by this news, maybe you'll believe me.

"Tommy Fox told it to me," Jasper went on, "and old dog Spot told it to him. Everybody knows that old Spot sometimes goes to town with his master. They were there yesterday. And Spot saw your picture himself. What's more, he heard the photographer tell Farmer Green that he came up here almost a week ago, hid his camera in some bushes, and set a flashlight near a half--gnawed tree. And when you started to work on the tree that night you brushed against a wire, and the flashlight flared up, and the camera took your picture before you could jump away.... Now what do you say?" Jasper Jay demanded. "Now do you think I'm telling you the truth?"

Brownie Beaver was so surprised that it was several minutes before he could speak. Then he said:

"Grandaddy Beaver was right. It wasn't a gun. I was just having my picture taken." Brownie was actually pleased, because he knew he was the only person in his village that had ever had such a thing happen to him.

After that he was ready to believe everything Jasper Jay told him. So Jasper related some wonderful news. And it would hardly be fair for anyone not present at the time to say that it wasn't perfectly true--every word of it.

XVI

LOOKING PLEASANT

After Jasper Jay left Brownie Beaver, on that day when Jasper told Brownie that the photographer had made a flashlight picture of him, Brownie could hardly wait for it to grow dark. He had made up his mind that he would go back to that same tree, which was still not quite gnawed through; and he hoped that he would succeed in having his picture taken again. Like many other people, Brownie Beaver felt that he could not have too much of a good thing.

There was another reason, too, for his going back to the tree. If the light flared again and the click sounded in the bushes, Brownie intended to go right into the thicket and get his picture before anybody else could carry it away with him. (You can understand how little he understood about taking photographs.)

Well, the dark found Brownie back at the tree once more. And he began once more to gnaw at it. He tried to look pleasant, too, because he had heard that that was the way one should look when having his picture taken.

He found it rather difficult, gnawing chips out of the tree and smiling at the same time. But he was an earnest youngster and he did the best he could.

Brownie Beaver kept wishing the flashlight would go off, because--what with smiling and gnawing--his face began to ache. But no glare of light broke through the darkness.

It was not long before Brownie had gnawed away so many chips that the tree began to nod its head further and further toward the ground. And Brownie wished that the flash-light would hurry and go off before the tree fell.

But there was not even the faintest flicker of light. It was most annoying. And Brownie was so disappointed that for once he forgot to be careful when he was cutting down a tree. He kept his eyes on the bushes all the time, instead of on the tree--as he should have done. And all the time the tree leaned more and more.

At last there was a _snap!_ Brownie Beaver should have known what that meant. But he was so eager to have his picture taken that he mistook the _snap_ for the _click_ that he had first heard almost a week before.

He thought it must be the click of a camera hidden in the bushes. And he stood very still and looked extremely pleasant. Now, Brownie Beaver should have known better. But like most people, for once he made a mistake. What he really heard was the tree snapping. And before he could jump out of the way the tree came crashing down upon him and pinned him fast to the ground. He saw a flash of light, to be sure, and a good many stars. But all that only came from the knock on his head which the tree gave him.

XVII

BROWNIE ESCAPES

When the tree crashed down upon Brownie Beaver and held him fast, it was some time before he came to his senses. Then he did not know, at first, where he was nor what had happened to him. But at last he remembered that he had been cutting down a tree not far from the pond and he saw that it must have fallen upon him.

Of course, the first thing that occurred to him was to call for help. But just as he opened his mouth to shout, another thought came into his head. _Perhaps some man might hear him--or a bear!_ And Brownie Beaver closed his mouth as quickly as he had opened it.

Then he tried to squirm from under the tree-trunk. But he couldn't move himself at all. Next he tried to push the tree away from him. But he couldn't move the tree either.

For a long while Brownie Beaver struggled, first at one impossible thing, and then at the other. And all the time the tree seemed to grow heavier and heavier.

Finally, Brownie stopped trying to get free and began to feel hungry.

You can see that he must have been worried, because there was the tree, with plenty of bark on it which he could eat. But he never noticed it for a long time.

At last, however, he happened to remember that in the beginning he had started to cut down that very tree so he could reach the bark and eat it.

Then Brownie Beaver had a good meal. And just as he finished eating, another thought came into his head. _Why shouldn't he gnaw right through the tree?_

Since there seemed to be no answer to that question, he began to gnaw big chips out of the wood. And in a surprisingly short time he had cut the tree apart just where it pressed upon him.

Then, of course, all he had to do was to get up and walk away.

When he reached the village he found that all his neighbors had been looking everywhere for him.

"That is," Grandaddy Beaver explained, "we looked everywhere except near the tree where you had that adventure a few nights ago. I said you wouldn't be there, for I advised you to keep away from that spot, as you will recall."

Now, Brownie Beaver said nothing more. He knew that it was an unheard-of thing for one of the Beaver family to be caught by a falling tree. To have everyone know what had happened to him would be a good deal like a disgrace.

But there are plenty of people who would think they had done something quite clever if they had gnawed through a tree with their teeth--though that was something that never once entered Brownie Beaver's head.

XVIII

MR. FROG'S QUESTION

"Why don't you get some new clothes?"

It was Mr. Frog that asked the question; and he asked it of Brownie Beaver, who was at work on top of his house. Mr. Frog had been hiding among the lily-pads, watching Brownie. But Brownie hadn't noticed him until he stuck his head out of the water and spoke.

At first Mr. Frog's question made Brownie a bit peevish.

"What's the matter with my clothes?" he asked hotly.

"There's nothing the matter with them--nothing at all," said Mr. Frog--"except that they are not as becoming to you as they might be. Of course," he added, as he saw that Brownie Beaver was frowning, "you look handsome in them. But you've no idea how you'd look in clothes of _my_ making."

Brownie Beaver felt more agreeable as soon as Mr. Frog had told him what he meant.

"Do _you_ make clothes?" he inquired.

"I'm a tailor," Mr. Frog replied. "And I've just opened a shop at the upper end of the pond."

"What's the matter with my tail?" Brownie snapped. He was angry again.

Then Mr. Frog explained that a tailor made suits.

"We've nothing to do with _tails,"_ he said--"unless it's coat-tails."

"What about cattails?" Brownie asked. "You're pretty close to some right now. So you can hardly say you have nothing to do with them."

Mr. Frog smiled.

"I see you're a joker," he said. "And it really seems a pity," he went on, "that a bright young fellow like you shouldn't wear the finest clothes to be had anywhere. If you'll come to my shop I'll make you a suit such as you never saw before in all your life."

"I'll come!" Brownie Beaver promised. "I'll be there at sunset."

And he went. Mr. Frog was waiting for him, with a broad smile on his face. Any smile of his just had to be broad, because he had such a wide mouth.

"Come right in!" Mr. Frog said. "I'll measure you at once." So Brownie Beaver stepped inside Mr. Frog's shop to be measured for his new suit.

It was all over in a few minutes. Mr. Frog scratched some figures on a flat stone. And then he went into the back room of his shop.

He stayed there a long time. And when he came into the front part again he found Brownie Beaver still there.

"What are you waiting for?" Mr. Frog asked. He seemed surprised that Brownie had not left.

"I'm waiting for my suit, of course," Brownie Beaver said.

"Oh! That won't be ready for three days," Mr. Frog told him. "I have to make it, you know."

Brownie thought that Mr. Frog must be a slow worker; and he told him as much.

But Mr. Frog did not agree with him.

"I'm very spry!" he claimed. "On the jump every minute!"

As Brownie started away, Mr. Frog called him back.

"I'd get a new hat if I were you," he suggested.

"What's the matter with this hat?" Brownie wanted to know. "It's a beaver hat--one my great-grandfather used to wear. It's been in our family a good many years and I'd hate to part with it."

"You needn't part with it," Mr. Frog said pleasantly. "Just don't wear it--that's all! For it won't look well with the clothes I'm going to make for you."

Then Brownie Beaver moved away once more. And again Mr. Frog stopped him.

"I'd buy a collar if I were you," he said.

"What's the matter with this neckerchief?" Brownie Beaver demanded. "It belonged to my great-grandmother."

"Then I'd be careful of it if I were you," Mr. Frog told him. "And please get a stiff white collar to wear."

"Won't it get limp in the water?" Brownie asked, doubtfully.

"Get a celluloid one, of course," Mr. Frog replied. "That's the only kind of collar you ought to wear."

So Brownie Beaver left the tailor-shop. And he was feeling quite unhappy. He had always been satisfied with his clothes. But now he began to dislike everything he had on. And he could hardly wait for three day to pass, he was in such a hurry for Mr. Frog to finish his new suit.

XIX

THE NEW SUIT

Three days had passed. And as soon as he had finished his breakfast Brownie Beaver hastened to the tailor-shop of Mr. Frog, who had been making him a suit of clothes.

Much to Brownie's disappointment, he found that Mr. Frog's door was locked. But he sat down on the doorstep and waited a long time. And at last Mr. Frog appeared.

After bidding Brownie Beaver good-morning, Mr. Frog yawned widely, remarking that he had been out late the night before, "at a singing-party," he said. "What can I do for you?" he asked Brownie Beaver.

"You can let me have my new suit of clothes," Brownie told him.

"You must be mistaken," Mr. Frog replied. "I don't remember you. I'm not making any suit for you."

At that Brownie Beaver became much excited.

"Why--" he exclaimed--"I was here three days ago and you measured me.... Don't you know me now?" he asked.

"Sorry to say I don't," was Mr. Frog's answer.

Brownie Beaver was desperate. He had looked forward eagerly to having his new suit. And he wanted it at once.

"You advised me to get a new hat and a collar," Brownie reminded him.

Mr. Frog smiled.

"Ah! That's it!" he cried. "You're wearing them now; and it's no wonder I didn't recognize you. You look ten years younger."

Brownie Beaver was puzzled.

"I'm not ten yet," he said. "So if I look ten years younger, I must appear very young indeed."

"The new clothes will fix that," Mr. Frog assured him.

"But you just told me you were not making a suit for me," said Brownie.

"Quite true, too!" answered Mr. Frog--"because it's all finished. So, of course, I'm not making it now."

They had stepped inside the shop. And Mr. Frog carefully took some garments off a peg and spread them before Brownie Beaver.

"There!" he said with an air of pride. "The finest suit you ever saw!"

"I'll slip it on," said Brownie.

"Oh! I wouldn't do that!" Mr. Frog told him. "You might stretch it."

But nothing could have kept Brownie Beaver out of his new suit. He scrambled into it quickly, while the tailor stood by with a worried look upon his face.

"The coat seems to be all right," Brownie remarked. "But there's something wrong with the trousers. I can't see my feet!" He bent over and gazed down where his feet ought to have been. But they had vanished. And an end of each trouser-leg trailed on the floor. "These trousers are too long!" Brownie declared.

"Then you stretched them, putting them on," Mr. Frog said. "I warned you, you know."

"I was very careful," Brownie said. "I'm sure it can't be that."

"Then your legs are too short," Mr. Frog told him glibly. "They look to me to be _much_ shorter than they were when I measured you."

"My legs--" Brownie Beaver exclaimed--"my legs are exactly the same length they were three days ago! You've made a mistake, Mr. Frog. That's what's the matter with these trousers!"

But Mr. Frog shook his head.

"I made them according to your measurements," he insisted.

"Let me see your figures!" Brownie Beaver cried.

But Mr. Frog shook his head again.

"I don't do business that way," he explained. "As soon as I've finished a suit I throw away the stone on which I've written the measurements. It saves trouble, if there's any complaint afterwards."

"Well!" said Brownie. "What can we do about this? I can't wear the trousers as they are."

"You'll have to get your legs stretched," Mr. Frog told him. "Just tie a stone to each foot and wear the trousers for a few days. As soon as you see your feet, take off the stones.... It's simple enough." He helped tie some heavy stones to Brownie's feet. And then Brownie swam away.

Now, swimming with your feet weighted like that is no easy matter. But Brownie managed to reach home. He stayed there, too, for the rest of the day, because it was hard for him to move about. And since he had nothing else to do, he went to sleep.

When he awoke, about an hour before sunset, he couldn't think at first what made his feet feel so heavy. He thought he must be ill--until he remembered about the stones being tied to his feet.

Then he looked down. And to his great surprise and joy there were his feet sticking out of his trousers, just as they ought to stick out!

Brownie untied the stones. He had not supposed his legs would stretch so quickly as that. And he told himself that Mr. Frog was a good tailor. He certainly knew his business. Now, as a matter of fact, Mr. Frog was a very careless person. He had thrown away Brownie's measurements _before_ he made his clothes, instead of _afterwards_. And he had made the new suit entirely by guesswork. It was only natural that he would make some mistake; and so he had cut the trousers entirely too long.

When he discovered that, he wanted to get Brownie out of his shop. And what happened next was simply this: After Brownie's trousers were wet in the pond, they dried while he was sleeping. And while they were drying they were shrinking at the same time.

Though Brownie Beaver didn't know it, his legs had not stretched at all. They were exactly the same length they had always been.

THE END

End of Project Gutenberg's The Tale of Brownie Beaver, by Arthur Scott Bailey