“O, any where about here, where there is a level place; you and William can find a place. Marielle may help you.”
So they began to look about for a place. They found a very good place near the brook, and not very far from the table. Royal began to drive down the crotch. But here he soon found difficulty. The two branches of the fork diverged equally from the main stem, and of course, when the point was set into the ground, neither of them was directly over it; so that, when Royal struck upon one of them, the tendency of the blow was to beat the stake over upon one side, and if he struck upon the other branch, it beat it over upon the other side. In a word, it would not drive.
“Strike right in the middle of the crotch,” said William.
Royal did so. This seemed to do better at first; but the axe did not strike fair, as the head of it, in this case, went down into the wedge-shaped cavity between the branches, instead of finding any solid resistance to fall upon. And after a few blows, the branches were split asunder by the force of the axe wedging itself between them; and there was, of course, an end of the business.
“O dear me!” said Royal, with a long sigh, as he stopped from his work, and leaned upon his axe.
As he looked up, he saw an old man, on the other side of the brook, with a sickle in his hand, who had been down in a field at his work, and who was now returning. He had seen Royal driving the stake as he was passing along.
“The trouble is, boy,” said the old man, “that you have not got the right sort of crotch. The arms of it branch off both sides.”
“I thought it was better for that,” said Royal.
“No,” said the man; “it looks better, perhaps, but it won’t drive. Get one where the main stem grows up straight, and the crotch is made by a branch which grows out all on one side. Then you can drive on the top of the main stem.”
“O yes,” said Royal, “I see.”