When Charlie began to work at Stroudwater the timber was not cut; thus he had an opportunity to help cut the timber, and begin at the foundation. Modern improvements were unknown then, and he found Mr. Foss built his vessels very much as he built his boats—by setting up stem and stern posts, a few frames, and working by ribbands.
It was late in the fall when Charlie went away, and Ben was obliged to work on the boats when he ought to have been putting his winter wood under cover. The moment the boats were done, he hauled up an enormous pile of wood, both green and dry, and had cut up a good part of the dry, when there came a great fall of snow and covered it all up; and not only so, but the dry chips that had come from hewing the frame of the shed, which were scattered over the ground, and that he meant to have put under cover. Thus the wood was all covered up in snow, and the new wood-shed stood empty.
Sally Merrithew had returned home; the snow was deep; the weather, though fair, extremely cold; and communication between Elm Island and the main pretty much suspended. Joe Griffin was building a log-house on his own land; but the snow being so deep that it was quite difficult to work in the woods, Peter Brock had persuaded him to assist in making axes.
Uncle Jonathan Smullen lived about half way between Joe’s father’s and the blacksmith’s shop, on a little rise, just where the road makes a short turn and goes down to Peterson’s spring. Thus Joe passed the house several times a day, going to and returning from labor.
Sally Merrithew did not approve of his practical jokes: he knew it, and endeavored with all his might to restrain himself. It was now a long time since Joe had been uncorked, and Sally was beginning to hope he never would be again.
Uncle Smullen had a cross ram: he would often run at the old man, who, being old and clumsy, was afraid of him. The barn-yard was very large, being used for both sheep and cattle. In the middle was a large patch of ice. The old man had stocking feet drawn over his shoes, to prevent slipping, and whenever the ram made demonstrations, would run on the ice; the ram, unable to follow, would stand at the edge and keep him there till some one came, or the ram got tired.
Half the cause of the trouble was, that the ram wanted the hens’ corn, and, because the old man wouldn’t let him have any, meant to proceed to blows. Joe, finding the old gentleman beleaguered one day, relieved him.
“The pesky creetur, Mr. Griffin, has kept me here most all the forenoon.”
“I’d cut his head off.”
“I would, Joseph; but he’s an excellent breed; I bought him of Seth Dingley.”