“He’s thinking about that piece of corn,” whispered Charlie, “and what a nice farm he’ll have when he gets these trees out of the way.”
“Didn’t you see him looking at the sun? He’s glad it’s most supper-time, when he can see Sally.”
Joe now resumed his work, and taking hold of the end of his axe-handle with both hands, delivered long, swinging blows, with the precision and rapidity of some engine, while the great chips fell from the scarf, and accumulated in a pile around the roots.
“I told you he wanted to see Sally. Only see that axe go in! How true he strikes, and what a long-winded creature he is!”
“Won’t that make a smashing when it falls? Such a big tree, and such long limbs! There it goes! I can see the top quiver!”
Crack! snap! Joe ceased to strike as the enormous bulk tottered for a moment in the air, then falling upon the trees adjoining, which were cut nearly off, bore them down in an instant, these in their turn falling upon others. Beneath this tremendous aggregate of forces, the forest fell with a roar and crash, as though uprooted by a whirlwind, the air was filled with branches and leaves, and when the tumult had subsided, a long, broad path was cut through the dense forest, with here and there a mutilated stub standing upright amid the desolation. As the last tree touched the earth, a loud cheer, mingled with the sound of cracking timber and rending branches. Turning suddenly around, Joe confronted John and Charlie.
“How are you, old slayer of trees?” cried Charlie.
“First-rate, my little boat-builder,” replied Joe, taking both his hands; “and how are you, John?”
“Well and hearty.”
“I’m right glad to see you, boys, and take it real kind in you to come clear up here to visit me. When did you get home?”