Bob Caverhill pulled out a small round hone and rubbed his ax. The ax was double bitted, with two curved blades like the axes the Vikings used, and carried a famous Pennsylvania maker’s stamp. The hone, shaped something like a watch, was made in an electric furnace at Niagara. Bob was fastidious about his tools and used the best he could get.
He balanced on a narrow plank, notched, six feet from the ground, into a big cedar trunk, and his pose was good. His jacket hung from a broken branch and his thin gray shirt indicated the firm molding of his shoulders and the curve to his waist. Bob had long used the ax, and as a rule the North American chopper is a model of muscular symmetry. His skin was brown, and his quiet watchful glance marked him for a man who lived in the woods. In fact, Bob
