Then Frank was seen to brace himself and swing the ax in the air. In a moment the chips were flying before the lusty blows.
“Vale,” grunted Hans, “dot don’d look so much like he vos goin’ to back oudt, did id? You don’d knew so much as I thought I did, Mister Man.”
“Well, he’s a fool ter chop on that log,” declared Sullivan. “That ain’t ther key.”
“Wait and see.”
The men on shore were surprised at the skill with which the lad swung the ax. He did not appear much like a novice, and, after that look toward the shore, he did not survey the distance again.
Breathlessly the spectators watched the work go on.
“He must be pretty well through the log,” said some one.
Then there was a thunderous crash, and the jam broke.