Standing on these springy
and uncertain boards, they began their real work, swinging their axes
alternately, with untiring patience and incomparable accuracy. Slowly,
very slowly, the "nick" grew, a mouth gaping ever wider in the brown
tree. When it had gaped wide enough the men hopped down from their
springboards, laid aside their axes, and betook themselves to the saw.
And when, at last, the wedges inserted in the saw-crack started the
mighty top, the men calmly withdrew the long ribbon of steel and stood
to one side.
[Illustration: The men calmly withdrew the long ribbon of steel and
stood to one side]
After the dust had subsided, and the last reverberations of that mighty
crash had ceased to reecho through the forest, the fellers stepped
forward to examine their work. They took all things into consideration,
such as old wind shakes, new decay, twist of grain and location of the
limbs. Then they measured off the prostrate trunk into logs of twelve,
fourteen, sixteen, eighteen, or even twenty feet, according to the best
expediency. The division points between logs they notched plainly, and,
shouldering their axes and their sledge and their long, limber saw,
pocketing their wedges and their bottle of coal oil, they moved on to
where the next mighty pine had through all the centuries been awaiting
their coming.
Pages:
274
275
276
277
278
279
280
281
282
283
284
285
286
287
288
289
290
291
292
293
294
295
296
297
298