GRANDADDY BEAVER THINKS
It was on a Friday that Brownie Beaver first heard
the cyclone was coming. And after making sure
that Grandaddy Beaver knew what he was talking about
when he said the great wind would sweep down upon the
village on the following Tuesday, Brownie spent a good
deal of time wondering what he had better do.
He wanted to save his house from being blown over
the top of Blue Mountain. And he wanted to save
himself from being carried along at the same time.
Before Friday was gone Brownie Beaver began to heap
more mud and sticks upon his house, to make it stronger.
And when Tired Tim came swimming past the lazy scamp
laughed harder than ever.
“I see you’re afraid of the cyclone,”
he called. “But what you’re doing
won’t help you any. The wind will blow away
those sticks easily enough.... What you ought
to do is to dig a house like mine in the bank.
Then you won’t have to worry about any cyclone.”
So Brownie set to work and made him a house like Tired
Tim’s. On Monday he had finished it.
But he didn’t like his new home at all.
“It’s no better than a rat’s hole,”
he said. “My family have never lived in
such a place and I’m not used to it. I prefer
my house that’s built of sticks and mud.
And I’m going to see if there isn’t some
way I can make it safe.”
So Brownie went to Grandaddy Beaver again and asked
him what he ought to do.
The old gentleman said he would try to think of a
plan to save Brownie’s house.
“I wish you would hurry,” Brownie urged
him. “To-day is Monday; and tomorrow the
cyclone will be here.... What are you going to
do to your own house, Grandaddy?”
“My house——” said Grandaddy
Beaver—“my house is very old.
It has had mud and sticks piled upon it every season
for over a hundred years. You can see for yourself
that it’s much bigger than yours. And I
reckon it’s strong enough to stay where it is,
no matter how hard the wind blows. But your house
is different.... Let me think a minute!”
the old gentleman said.
Brownie waited in silence while the old gentleman
thought, with his eyes shut tight. Brownie watched
him for a long time. Once or twice he thought
he heard something that sounded like a snore.
But he knew it couldn’t be that—it
was only the thoughts trying to get inside Grandaddy’s
head.
At last Grandaddy sat up with a start.
“Have you thought of something?” Brownie
inquired.
“What’s that?” Grandaddy asked.
“Oh, yes! I’ve a good idea,”
he said. “What you must do is to tie your
house so the wind can’t blow it away.”
Brownie thanked him. And he went away feeling
quite happy again—until he reached home
and started to follow Grandaddy’s advice.
Then he saw that he had forgotten something.
He hadn’t anything with which to tie his house
and make it safe from the cyclone.
