“I’m going to examine the tree more closely.”
He walked straight up to it, and stood minutely examining the bark. Then he passed his hand over it.
“Higher up,” said Annabel. “He used to feel about on a level with his head, Will told me, and he’s taller than you are, papa.”
Mr. Williams touched the bark higher up, and looked mystified. Surely there had been no reason for Mr. Jordan’s action. Perhaps the man was mad, after all, and this was one of his crazy notions.
Wait a moment though! Wasn’t that a crack in the rough bark? Mr. Williams took out his pocket knife, and inserted the blade into the crack. Yes, the bark had separated slightly at this point. He followed the line with his knife blade, with growing excitement. It zig-zagged this way and that, keeping first to the right, then upward almost as far as he could reach, then to the left on almost a straight line; then down again to the starting point.
Mr. Williams withdrew the blade and took a long breath.
“That square of bark is separate from the rest,” he said.
“How odd!” answered Annabel, her eyes bigger than usual.
Her father looked around, and espied an old root lying near. He dragged this over to the tree, and standing upon it was able to place his face close to the bark.
Then he indulged in a low whistle, for he had discovered a blackened screw-head half hidden by the roughness of the surface. Again he drew out his pocket-knife and deliberately snapped one of the blades in half. With this improvised screw-driver he set to work, and shortly had the screw removed.