Thorn looked and saw a big hollow in a gravel hill. The hill was made of sand and clay and pebbles and bowlders. The rain had washed some of the sand and clay away, and the stones had fallen down and now lay in piles on the ground.
"Men come from far away for our stone," the old man went on. "It is good stone for axes. They bring us shells and amber and meat and skins for our stone. Some of them take the stone to their homes and make their own axes; others buy our axes."
At the gravel bed, men were at work. One man had a big digging stick. He put it under a rock and pushed it out of the ground. Another man had the shoulder bone of a bear. He pushed it under some pebbles and lifted them and threw them upon an ox skin on the ground. Then he gathered up the corners of the skin, took it on his back, and carried it down to the stone yard.
As Thorn watched the men getting out stone for their axes and spear heads, he said to his grandfather, "Who made the axes for the cave men before you made them?"
"Oh, ever since the old days," said Flint, "there has been an ax maker. Some men can chip stone well and easily. Others can never learn to do it in their whole lives. So the men who can chip stone do it; and they are the ax makers. The other men use the axes, and they are the hunters.
"My grandfather told me," said Flint, as he walked slowly down the hill, "that in the old days the cave men did not have stone axes and spears. They hunted with sticks; they threw a stick like your mother's digging stick; and they struck with a stick like your father's hunting club. And they used the sharp stones they chipped only for knives and scrapers. But one day, a man thought about tying a sharp stone to a stick! There, you see, was the first spear!"
[Illustration: Forest scene]
"That was a great day for the cave men!" Flint went on, while his grim face lighted up. "For with a stone weapon they could hunt the swift wild animals, and so get more food."