"What we need is to bring a grindstone along with us," Tom Reade
grunted, as he examined the edge of the largest blade in his jackknife.
"I simply can't cut with this knife any more."
"I couldn't cut with a fine razor," declared Greg Holmes. "Look
at the blisters on my hands from the cutting I've already done."
"Never mind your aches and pains," comforted Dave Darrin. "We're
doing this to pay charges on our canoe, and Hiram Driggs has been
mighty kind about the whole business. Think of the fun we're
going to have when that canoe is launched; Now, fellows, Hiram
Driggs has been mighty good to us, so I want to propose a plan
for your approval. Whenever Driggs tells us that we've cut and
hauled enough birch bark to pay him, then we must come out here
and get still a few more loads, to pay him in good measure and
show that we appreciate his kindness. Never mind how much our
backs ache or our hands smart. Do you agree?"
"I'll fight any fellow in the crowd who doesn't agree," announced
Tom Reade.
"You can't get up a fight with me on that score," retorted Greg.
The others also quickly assented to Dave's plan.
By and by the youngsters halted for half an hour to eat the luncheons
they had brought with them. Then they went at their work again.
At half-past three o'clock in the afternoon they tied up in bundles
as much of the bark as each boy could carry, then started homeward.
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