“Wow! that suits me,” Giraffe went on; “I can stand it every meal, right along. Never yet did get enough of the stuff.”
“But it’s awful high up,” ventured Step Hen. “How under the sun will we ever climb up there, and dig it out?”
“Don’t have to,” remarked Bumpus, placidly; “that tree’s just got to be chopped down, so’s to let us scoop up all the stuff we can carry back home.”
“But it’s a whopper of a tree,” Step Hen went on; “and who’s goin’ to chop it down, I’d like to know?”
“Oh!” remarked Bumpus, pleasantly, “that was all fixed long ago. You may remember that once Giraffe here promised to chop down the tree, if ever I located a hive. Well, there’s the tree; so get busy, Giraffe. It’s a pretty hefty axe, too, I should think; but you know how to swing one. I’ll sit down on this log, and see how you get on; because I’ve done my part.”
Giraffe started to answer back; then thought better of it; and seizing hold of the axe that Jim the guide carried, he started to hack the tree.
But Giraffe was no woodsman, and made such a sorry mess of it that Jim finally took pity on him. He knew the scout would never get that tree down in a day, judging from the clumsy way he started in. Besides, there would be danger of the amateur chopper bringing it down on himself. It takes an experienced woodsman to judge how a tree is inclined to fall. One of these fellows can drop a tree almost in any exact place he wants, unless the slant of the trunk is entirely too great to be overcome by judicious work with the axe.
From time to time Allan “spelled” the guide, for he knew how to handle an axe to some advantage. And the others stood around, watching with interest the clever way in which the sharp axe cut into the wood, exactly on a line with preceding strokes.
“I could never learn to do that in a coon’s age,” admitted Bumpus.
“But I mean to, and before I quit these here Maine woods,” declared Giraffe. “A feller that’s as fond of fires as me, ought to know how to chop down a tree, so’s to always have plenty of wood for burnin’.”