Smiles came about the old man's mouth, and he slowly pulled four beautiful chipped axes from his bag. One ax was big and heavy. That was for Strongarm. He handed it to him. Another ax was small and light. That was Burr's. She put out her hand for it. There were two little axes. These the boys snatched with shouts of joy.
The axes were wide at the sharp end and narrow at the head, and you could see where every chip had come off.
Strongarm turned his ax over and looked at it. He rubbed his fingers along the rough sharp edge.
[Illustration: Stone tools]
"That is a good ax," he said, and he held it up and looked it all over again.
"Grandfather," said Thorn, pressing close to the old man's side, "when I am a man, I shall be an ax maker like you."
"Begin now," said his grandfather, with a gruff laugh. "It takes a long time to learn to make a good ax."
"Can anybody learn?" asked Pineknot.