It was the warning crack of a beaver tail that fully roused Baree; and then another and another, like pistol shots.

He jumped up.

Everywhere beavers were scurrying for the pond.
Just then Umisk came out of the alders and hurried as fast as his short, fat legs would carry him toward the water.

He had almost reached the mud when a lightning flash of red passed before Baree's eyes in the afternoon sun, and in another instant Napakasew--the he-fox--had fastened his sharp fangs in Umisk's throat.

Baree heard his little friend's agonized cry; he heard the frenzied flap-flap-flap of many tails--and his blood pounded suddenly with the thrill of excitement and rage.
As swiftly as the red fox himself, Baree darted to the rescue.