he could hear his heart beat. He could see the little stars
twinkling in the sky and their own reflections twinkling back at
them from the water of Paddy's pond. Old Man Coyote waited and
waited. He is very patient when there is something to gain by it.
For such a splendid dinner as Paddy the Beaver would make, he
felt that he could well afford to be patient. So he waited and
waited, and everything was as still as if no living thing but the
trees where there. Even the trees seemed to be asleep.

At last, after a long, long time, he heard just the faintest
splash. He pricked up his ears and peeped out on the pond with
the hungriest look in his yellow eyes. There was a little line of
silver coming straight toward him. He knew that it was made by
Paddy the Beaver swimming. Nearer and nearer it drew. Old Man
Coyote chuckled way down deep inside, without making a sound. He
could see Paddy's head now, and Paddy was coming straight in, as
if he hadn't a fear in the world.

Almost to the edge of the pond swam Paddy. Then he stopped. In a
few minutes he began to swim again, but this time it was back in
the direction of his house, and he seemed to be carrying
something. It was one of the little food logs he had cut that
day, and he was taking it out to his storehouse. Then back he
came for another. And so he kept on, never once coming ashore.
Old Man Coyote waited until Paddy had carried the last log to his
storehouse and then, with a loud whack on the water with his
broad tail, had dived and disappeared in his house.

Then Old Man Coyote arose and started elsewhere to look for his
dinner, and in his heart was bitter disappointment.