His progress was now rapid; he soon ascertained the proper temper for all kinds of tools. The steel of the axe he had experimented with had been through the fire so many times that the life of it was all gone. He therefore put new steel in it, improved the shape somewhat, ground the whole surface of it before tempering, to take off the hammer marks,—for he had not learned to hammer smooth,—tempered it carefully, and hid it away in the shop.
The next week he procured his anvil, beak-horn, stake, and tools for nails. They came from Boston to Portsmouth, from thence to Kennebunkport, by water; on an ox team to the village, and from there up the river in a canoe.
His land joined Bradford's, and they had appointed a day to build a piece of log fence together. Richardson took his new axe with him, having ground it sharp. Watching his opportunity while Bradford was putting some top poles on the fence, he took Bradford's axe, putting his own in the same place. Bradford, without noticing the difference, took it up and began to chop into the side of a tree.
"Whew! How this axe cuts! Gnaws right into the wood. It ain't my axe; it's William's. Will, where'd you get this axe?"
"Made it."
"The dogs you did."
"It is one of those you helped me forge."
"It's worth two of that axe you are using that John Drew made me. Will you sell it?"
"Yes; that's what I made it for."
"May I put it into the knots?"