CHAPTER XII.
HOUSE-BUILDING.
There was a change in the programme of daily labor, when the corn was in the ground. At odd times the settlers had gone over to the wood-lot and had laid out their plans for the future home on that claim. There was more variety to be expected in house-building than in planting, and the boys had looked forward with impatience to the beginning of that part of their enterprise. Logs for the house were cut from the pines and firs of the hill beyond the river bluff. From these, too, were to be riven, or split, the “shakes” for the roof-covering and for the odd jobs of work to be done about the premises.
Now, for the first time, the boys learned the use of some of the strange tools that they had brought with them. They had wondered over the frow, an iron instrument about fourteen inches long, for splitting logs. At right angles with the blade, and fixed in an eye at one end, was a handle of hard-wood. A section of wood was stood up endwise on a firm foundation of some sort, and the thin end 127 of the frow was hammered down into the grain of the wood, making a lengthwise split.
In the same way, the section of wood so riven was split again and again until each split was thin enough. The final result was called a “shake.” Shakes were used for shingles, and even––when nailed on frames––for doors. Sawed lumber was very dear; and, except the sashes in the windows, every bit of the log-cabin must be got out of the primitive forest.
The boys were proud of the ample supply which their elders had brought with them; for even the knowing Younkins, scrutinizing the tools for woodcraft with a critical eye, remarked, “That’s a good outfit, for a party of green settlers.” Six stout wedges of chilled iron, and a heavy maul to hammer them with, were to be used for the splitting up of the big trees into smaller sections. Wooden wedges met the wants of many people in those primitive parts, at times, and the man who had a good set of iron wedges and a powerful maul was regarded with envy.
“What are these clumsy rings for?” Oscar had asked when he saw the maul-rings taken out of the wagon on their arrival and unloading.
His uncle smiled, and said, “You will find out what these are for, my lad, when you undertake to swing the maul. Did you never hear of splitting rails? Well, these are to split rails and such things from the log. We chop off a length of a 128 tree, about eight inches thick, taking the toughest and densest wood we can find. Trim off the bark from a bit of the trunk, which must be twelve or fourteen inches long; drive your rings on each end of the block to keep it from splitting; fit a handle to one end, or into one side of the block; and there you have your maul.”
“Why, that’s only a beetle, after all,” cried Sandy, who, sitting on a stump near by, had been a deeply interested listener to his father’s description of the maul.