Volume One—Chapter Thirteen.
Savages Continued—The Mast Fitted.
“This is very stupid,” said Bevis, throwing himself back at full length on the grass, and crossing his arms over his face to shield his eyes from the sun.
“They ought not to tell us such stupid things,” said Mark. “We might rub all day.”
“I know,” said Bevis, sitting up again. “It’s a drill; it’s done with a drill. Give me my bow—there, don’t you know how Jonas made the hole in Tom’s gun?”
Jonas the blacksmith, a clever fellow in his way, drilled out a broken nipple in the bird-keeper’s muzzle-loading gun, working the drill with a bow. Bevis and Mark, always on the watch everywhere, saw him do it.
They cut a notch or hole in the hard surface of the thicker bough, and shaped another piece of wood to a dull point to fit in it. Bevis took this, placed it against the string of his bow, and twisted the string round it. Then he put the point of the stick in the hole; Mark held the bough firm on the ground, but immediately he began to work the bow backwards and forwards, rotating the drill alternate ways, he found that the other end against which he pressed with his chest would quickly fray a hole in his jacket. They had to stop and cut another piece of wood with a hole to take the top of the drill, and Bevis now pressed on this with his left hand (finding that it did not need the weight of his chest), and worked the bow with his right.
The drill revolved swiftly, it was really very near the savages’ fire-drill; but the expected flame did not come. The wood was not dry enough, or the point of friction was not accurately adjusted; the wood became quite hot, but did not ignite. You may have the exact machinery and yet not be able to use it, the possession of the tools does not make the smith. There is an indefinite something in the touch of the master’s hand which is wanting.