The old man drew back his lips, displaying two rows of broken teeth. “A couple of times, as you can see.”
They walked closer to the big pine tree as two muscular sawyers started to make the undercut that would determine the direction the tree would fall. The chips flew as their double-edged axes flashed in the sunlight, and a wedge widened rapidly in the side of the trunk. Their strokes were rhythmic and effortless. Jonas called their attention to the smoothness of the undercut.
“Good men,” he said. “The scarf is as clean as if it was cut by a saw.”
When the undercut was completed to the crew chief’s satisfaction, two other men went to work with a wicked-looking two-handled saw with a curved blade.
“We better mosey back to the sidelines,” Jonas told them. “Mistakes do happen.”
From a safe distance they watched until, at last, the tree began to tremble throughout its length like a live thing. Before the saw was completely through the trunk, there was a grinding, crackling noise and the crown swayed and dipped. Suddenly there was a sharp report that Sandy first mistook for an explosion.
“She’s falling!” Jonas said.
“Tim-m-ber!” the crew boss sang out at the top of his lungs as the great tree toppled slowly and majestically. It landed with a thunderous crash that blurred Sandy’s vision and jarred his teeth. And then, for a full minute, it lay there, writhing and groaning like some prehistoric monster in the throes of death.
The boys were awed.
“I never saw anything like it,” Jerry whispered.