It was slender
and straight, and grandfather noticed that the bark was smooth and of
a beautiful light green.
"Of this," said the old man, "we will make a tree in which the birds
of the air shall build their nests, and under which the beasts of the
field shall find shelter, and rest in the heat of the day. But first
there shall be music, to please the spirits of the springtime. Take
this stick down to the brook, and wet it all over."
So my grandfather took the stick and did as the old man told him. When
he came back to the bench, the tinker had a large horn-handled knife
open in his hand. With the blade, which seemed very sharp, he made a
single cut through the bark of the stick, about a foot from one end,
and by holding the knife still, and spinning the stick slowly toward
him in his fingers, he carried the cut all the way round. Then, near
the end, he cut a deep notch, and four or five smaller notches in a
line farther down; and after that he laid the stick across his knee,
and turning it all the while, began to pound it gently with the handle
of the knife.
When he had pounded a long time, he laid down the knife, and taking
the stick in both hands, gave it a little twist. At that, grandfather
heard something pop, and saw the bark slip from the end of the stick
above the knife-cut, all whole except for the notches, a smooth, green
tube.
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