When I heard him telling father that it must be ground, I said to
myself that we were not like to know how it might taste, for there
is not a single mill in this land; but Squanto first cut a large tree
down, leaving the stump a full yard in height. Then, by building a fire
on the stump, scraping away with a sharp rock the wood as fast as it
was charred, he made a hollow like unto a hole, and so deep that one
might put in half a bushel of this Turkie wheat.
[Illustration]
From another portion of the tree he shaped a block of wood to fit
exactly the hole in the stump, and this he fastened to the top of a
young, slender tree, when even we children knew that he had made a
mortar and pestle, although an exceeding rude one.
We had only to pull down the heavy block with all our strength upon
the corn, thus bruising and crushing it, when the natural spring of the
young tree would pull it up again. In this way did we grind our Guinny
wheat until it was powdered so fine that it might be cooked in a few
moments.