Then, on the very edge, the beaver gave a great plunge, and
splashed into the water with the lynx clinging to its back. At
once they disappeared, and the hunters rushed to the place,
expecting them to float up and be an easy prey; but they did not
float. At length it was clear that the pair had gone under the
ice, for in water the beaver was master.
After five minutes it was certain that the lynx must be dead.
Quonab cut a sapling and made a grappler. He poked this way and
that way under the ice, until at length he felt something soft.
With the hatchet they cut a hole over the place and then dragged
out the body of the lynx. The beaver, of course, escaped and was
probably little the worse.
While Quonab skinned the catch, Rolf prowled around the pond and
soon came running back to tell of a remarkable happening.
At another open hole a beaver had come out, wandered twenty yards
to a mound which he had castorized, then passed several hard wood
trees to find a large poplar or aspen, the favourite food tree.
This he had begun to fell with considerable skill, but for some
strange reason, perhaps because alone, he had made a
miscalculation, and when the tree came crashing down, it had
fallen across his back, killed him, and pinned him to the ground.
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