When the trunk was nearly severed, Tom drove another and thicker
wedge.

"Timber!" hallooed Hank in a long-drawn melodious call that melted
through the woods into the distance. The swampers ceased work and
withdrew to safety.

But the tree stood obstinately upright. So the saw leaped back and
forth a few strokes more.

"Crack!" called the tree.

Hank coolly unhooked his saw handle, and Tom drew the blade through
and out the other side.

The tree shivered, then leaded ever so slightly from the
perpendicular, then fell, at first gently, afterwards with a
crescendo rush, tearing through the branches of other trees,
bending the small timber, breaking the smallest, and at last
hitting with a tremendous crash and bang which filled the air with
a fog of small twigs, needles, and the powder of snow, that settled
but slowly. There is nothing more impressive than this rush of
a pine top, excepting it be a charge of cavalry or the fall of
Niagara. Old woodsmen sometimes shout aloud with the mere
excitement into which it lifts them.

Then the swampers, who had by now finished the travoy road, trimmed
the prostrate trunk clear of all protuberances. It required fairly
skillful ax work. The branches had to be shaved close and clear,
and at the same time the trunk must not be gashed. And often a man