But little Jack skipped this way and that, noticing everything by the roadside. He watched the bees buzzing among the flowers, the butterflies fluttering in the sunlight and the birds building their nests in the trees.
He asked questions about everything. "What is this? Why is this? How is this?"
But his brothers only growled and answered, "We don't know."
By-and-by they came to a mountain and a great forest of pine-trees. Far up the side of the mountain they could hear the sound of an axe and the noise of falling branches.
"I wonder who is chopping wood up there," said Jack. "Do you know, Paul?"
"Of course I don't know," growled Paul. "Hold your tongue."
"Oh, he is always wondering," said Peter. "You would think he'd never heard an axe before."
"Well, wonder or no wonder," said Jack, "I mean to go up and see who is chopping wood."
"Go, then," said Paul. "You will tire yourself out and be left behind. But it will be a good lesson to you."
Jack did not stop to listen to these words. For he was already climbing up the mountain toward the place where the chopping was heard.