Immediately the Frenchman came forward and Bob could see that he was shaking, but whether with fear or anger, he was uncertain.
“Head fly off ax. Wedge, she work loose, come out,” and he held out the helve for Bob to examine.
“So I see,” Bob replied, as he took the helve in his hand. “But how is it that you haven’t gone to dinner with the rest of the men?”
“I feenesh trim tree first,” he replied uneasily. “I ver’ glad ax no heet boy,” he added as he pulled it from the trunk.
“Thanks, so am I,” Bob returned dryly, as he struck the final blow which sent the tree crashing to the earth.
“You no tink I do eet purpose, heh?” Jean asked as he nervously shoved the helve back into the ax.
“We’ll let it go at that,” Bob evaded the question. “But please see to it that nothing like that happens again,” he added as he started for the camp. “We don’t want it to get to be a habit, you know.”
“I drive wedge in ver’ hard thes time,” Jean promised, as he fell in behind Bob.
“You go ahead,” Bob ordered, stepping to one side.
The Frenchman hesitated a moment, seemed about to speak, then changed his mind, and without a word struck off at a rapid gait toward the camp.