yard showed only chips and saw-dust where that vast wood-pile had been -
and the big barn was piled full to the rafters - the kitchen wood and
chunks on one side, the big wood on the other.

Then Pete would come in and announce that the job was done - and
grandfather would bundle-up and go out for a final inspection. Pete
removed the pad from his leg (you remember the carpet he wore on his
left knee - the one that held the stick in place in the buck when he was
sawing) and together they went into the barn - and talked it all over -
and Pete said it was harder wood than last year's and more knots in it
and ought to be worth two shillings more than contract price - and
grandfather finally allowed the excess - and Old Pete came in and got
his money (in gold and silver) and a bowl of coffee and some bread - and
went his way to the Jonesses or some other folks.

And you, young man - you surely hated to see that great Viking go - for
he had told you many a wonderful tale at the noon hour as he munched his
thick sandwiches - and no one could look at his massive head and huge
shoulders and great beard and hair and doubt that his forebears had done
all that he credited to them.

Somehow, Old Pete seemed more real than most men you knew - except
grandfather, of course. There was something unexplainable in the man and
his work that rang true - something that was so wholesome and sound. He
wasn't like old Hawkins, the grocer - he'd as lief give you a rotten
apple as not if he could smuggle it into the bag without you seeing him;
and Kline the candy-man sometimes sold you old hard stuff mixed with the
fresh. But Old Pete here - he just worked honest and steady - out in the
open - at a fixed wage - and he did an honest job and was proud of it
even if it was only sawing wood. He worked faithfully until it was done,