A LESSON IN BRIDGE-MAKING. 213 
The boys followed the backwoodsman patiently, climb- 
ing over logs and boulders, sinking knee-deep in moss, 
and helping their sister over the roughest places. They 
longed to inquire how Solomon proposed to cross the 
stream, but they knew better than to ask questions. 
Solomon was as averse as a brigadier-general to explain- 
ing his plans beforehand. 
He paused at length at a point where the river nar- 
rowed in to a width of about sixty feet, having a depth 
of fifteen or twenty in the centre of the channel. The 
shores were thickly wooded with evergreens, rising to a 
great height. Prominent among these was a huge old 
hemlock close to the water's edge, towering to the height 
of at least one hundred feet. Solomon measured it with 
his eye, and gripped his axe firmly. He had found what 
he wanted. 
Clip ! clip ! went the keen edge of the axe into the 
tough fibres of the tree. Chips flew in every direction. 
As the trunk was at least thirty inches in diameter, it 
was no light job to reach its core, on the side toward the 
stream. After ten minutes' steady work, the white man 
handed over his axe to Peeschee and the Chilkats, all of 
whom were accomplished choppers. 
The young people looked on as the pile of yellow, fra- 
grant chips grew ; applauding every particularly large 
piece that was successfully detached. Hugh became tired 
of inaction at length, and strolled off with his fishing- 
tackle. 
