rain had washed away the red stains and we lost the trail and returned to camp. But that bear is going yet. Also, he is carrying with him three bullets that belong to me. Some day, somewhere in the woods, I expect to meet him again, when I shall take those bullets away from him.

It is now seventeen years since we first met the Chief Engineer. He still retains the monopoly of his trade mark. Within our knowledge, no other beaver has appeared with a white spot on his head. But the Chief shows his age. His brown coat of fur looks faded and grey, and the white spot is less conspicuous. The Chief was a member of the first colony installed for the purpose of restocking the northern forests; and he has contributed his share, both to increasing the inhabitants and to rebuilding beaver industries. Every season a new family of four to seven beavers have been sent out from his home to start other families, and so they have multiplied in a sort of geometrical progression until now they cover many hundreds of square miles of forest land and water. Early in 1920 the Conservation Commissioner of the State of New York estimated that there were more than twenty thousand beavers in the Adirondack region. My guess is that this estimate is much too low.

One day last summer, Bige and I saw the Chief Engineer dive and enter a tunnel leading to his house. We silently paddled up close to the house and listened. Presently we heard a murmur of beaver conversation inside. "Gosh!" said Bige, "the old Chief is giving instructions to the kid beavers. He's telling 'em how to handle the job they have to do tonight."

END OF THE CHIEF ENGINEER