"Guess I know how to tap a tree," said Jerry. "The sun shines right on this one, and the sap'll run well."
"Ugh—ugh—ugh," coughed Rush Potts. "I guess I'll help Phin. He doesn't know as much as you do."
"I should say not," diffidently replied Jerry; but he had finished his first tree quite skillfully, and now he went for his second with all the zeal of a true sportsman.
"Phineas," he shouted, a moment later, "when you come to a maple of this kind, knock off the outer bark. It bores easier."
"All right," replied Phin, with his mouth half full of his handkerchief. But he added, in a lower voice: "Rush, stop rolling in the snow. He's tapping a hickory this time."
"T'other was an elm. Oh, if he isn't fun! What'll old man Wire say to that?"
"Keep still. Get up, can't you? I can't bore a hole worth a cent. Give me a spile."
Jerry was an enthusiastic sugar-maker, and his rapidity of work was a credit to him.
"Maple this time," said Phin, at the end of Jerry's next job. "But look at what he's doing now."
"Beech! There'll be more sugar 'n old Wire'll know what to do with."