Chapter 11

Justin had been right. The path was challenging. Morgan could hear the heavy breathing and grunts of exertion as the group toiled up the steep path. And, of course, there were the ever-present utterances of protest from the group’s resident curmudgeon: Jeff.

“Stop,” Justin ordered, raising a hand. “Listen.”

Over the sounds of the birds in the trees, Morgan could hear a low roar: it was the sound of rushing water.

Justin signaled they should move on. The climb, if it were possible, became even steeper as the roar of the falls became louder. They made a sharp turn, and after a few yards a stream came into view. The stream here was a rushing, cascading rapids. It coursed its way down the mountainside toward the pond. There the hardworking beaver halted the stream’s headlong tumble to The Big Lake with their dam.