So Sam climbed down and joined Norma at the back of the pole. He had left his saw sticking in the cleft so he could better judge where his mistake was being made. He found matters as Norma had said, but he couldn’t see what did it. He scratched his head for an intelligent explanation to shine forth, but none came.
“I tell you what I got to do!” he declared, going over and taking the ladder from that side and moving it to the side where the cleft ran an inch above the groove. “I got’ta saw from dis side, now—see?”
He now began sawing the post from “this side,” as he said, and again he sawed and sawed, with might and main, until his face was streaming and his breath came in short gasps with the effort.
Norma waited and when he was almost halfway through from “this side” she went back to the first side to see if he was almost meeting the first cleft.
“Oh, Sam! Now you’ve gone and sawed an inch above the old line and they’ll never meet!” cried Norma anxiously.
Again Sam got down and walked around to eye his work from Norma’s position, and then he scratched his head again. This time he frowned heavily at the problem to be solved.
“Now, I don’t see how dat saw got so high when I was so careful to keep it going in the groove around the post,” said he.
“Well, I don’t see, either, especially as I asked you to saw it square across, before you started,” complained Norma.
“I know you did, but askin’ ain’t cuttin’, you see.”
“It looks so simple, Sam—just saw along that little gutter made in the pole! That would bring the top off and leave the post nice and flat on top. As it now is, the top won’t come off and no bird house will sit on a slant.”