“Mother, how can he tell just where the tree is going to fall?” asked Janet.
“Oh, they have a way of knowing,” she answered.
“It all depends on the way we chop it,” explained the lumberman, who overheard what Janet had asked. “It takes practice, but we can make a tree fall anywhere we want it to.”
And this proved to be the case. Two men chopped at the big trunk, one on either side. Their bright axes flashed in the sunshine and the white chips flew about.
“We must come back here after the tree is cut, and pick up some of the chips,” said Mrs. Martin to the children. “Chips are fine for putting on the fire to make the tea-kettle boil quickly.”
“I wish I could chop a tree,” sighed Trouble.
“Oh, you mustn’t ever touch one of the men’s axes!” warned Mrs. Martin, for she could read Trouble’s mind at times. “They are so sharp they would cut you badly.”
“They’re shiny, too,” said Trouble. “I guess maybe a crow would like to carry one off like they took your knife, wouldn’t they, Ted?” he asked.
“Ho! Ho! A crow would have a fine time trying to fly away with an axe!” laughed Ted.
“Well, but if maybe six ten dozen crows—now—tried to take a axe they could—couldn’t they, Mother?” asked the little fellow.