Sammy now went to work, and made some very thick and strong pots, that would hold two pailfuls, after the Indian form, and fastened withes to them. They were very useful, for the women could hang them on the crane, and boil meat or vegetables.
They kept a little clay at home to smear them with, which was seldom necessary if the fire was made with judgment directly under the bottom of the pot, and not suffered to blaze upon the sides.
Sammy now wished to try his hand at a milk-pan; but his mother discouraged him, because she said the milk would soak into it more or less, and it would not be possible to keep it sweet, and after a while the milk put in it would sour. However, he made one, just to see if he could; and it looked just like his mother's except the glazing. How he wished he could glaze! He made pitchers and drinking-mugs, and put handles on them by forming a roll of clay, and then sticking them on when the ware was partly dry. He would stick the upper end of the roll of clay on the vessel, then dip his hand in water, form the roll into proper shape, and attach the lower end, then smooth with a moist rag. After these unglazed dishes became foul, Sammy purified them by putting them in the kiln, and baking them again. He made another improvement that facilitated his labor. He got Scip to plane and shave a piece of pine perfectly round, two feet long, and three inches in diameter, and split in equal parts with a saw. Scip then hollowed out each part, and put dowels in one half, and bored holes to correspond in the other, which held the pieces evenly upon each other.
When he had made a roll of clay about the size, he dipped the mould in water, put the roll in one half, and squat the other on it, and thus made every roll the same size perfectly; and, by counting them up, he knew very nearly when he had cut out enough for his pot.
There was one thing he could not prevent his mind from dwelling on: it haunted him night and day; to wit, the statement made by Uncle Seth in respect to the potter's wheel, and with what marvellous celerity vessels could be made on it. That a thousand pots could be made in a day, seemed to him little short of a miracle. He had not forgotten that Uncle Seth had said, that, instead of a crank (of the nature of which he had little conception), the spindle was sometimes moved by a band going over a larger wheel, and passing round a smaller wheel (pulley) on the spindle, and that this large wheel was turned by another person.
This was not to him difficult of conception; and he thought Uncle Seth might, if he would, make one of that kind, and cherished a vague notion that he might make such a one himself.
With his head full of such thoughts, he was occupied in preparing nests for setting hens, and casting about in his mind which of the boys he should endeavor to persuade to help him, should he adventure upon it.
He finally pitched upon Archie Crawford. Archie was quite ingenious, could make a good wooden or horn spoon, a windmill, or a trencher, and manifested more endurance in sticking to any thing he undertook than most of the boys; was of a kindly nature, and willing to oblige.
While Sammy was thus engaged, Archie presented himself, accompanied by several more armed with bows and arrows. The bows were capable, when the arrow was drawn to the head, of killing a bear or wolf; and the arrows were most of them steel pointed, the others flint heads, but they were of Indian make and effective.
These bows belonged to the larger boys. The one carried by Johnnie Armstrong belonged to his brother Ned; Harry Sumerford had killed an Indian with it. As they had been restricted in the use of powder, they had betaken themselves to the use of the bow; but these boys, by virtue of incessant practice from childhood, would, when the object was near, kill nearly every time. The bows they now had, however, were too stiff for them, and they were not able to draw the arrow to the head.