I had got the biggest parts of my machine done, and could fix them
together and try it. There was an old stump by the barn-bridge from an
aspen that had been blown down; I fixed my apparatus to that, and found
at once that the saw would cut all right. Aha, now, what have you got
to say? Here's the problem solved! I had bought a huge saw-blade and cut
teeth all down the back; these teeth fitted into a little cogwheel
set to take the friction, and driven forward by the spring. The spring
itself I had fashioned originally from a broad staybusk Emma had given
me, but, when I came to test it; it proved too weak; so I made another
from a saw-blade only six millimetres across, after I had first filed
off the teeth. This new spring, however, was too strong; I had to manage
as best I could by winding it only half-way up, and then, when it ran
down, half-way up again.
I knew too little theory, worse luck; it was a case of feeling my way
at every step, and this made it a slow proceeding. The conical gear, for
instance, I found too heavy when I came to put it into practice, and had
to devise a different system altogether.
It was on a Sunday that I fixed my apparatus to the stump; the new white
woodwork and the shining saw-blade glittered in the sun. Soon faces
appeared at the windows, and the Captain himself came. He did not answer
my greeting, so intent was he on the machine.
“Well, how do you think it will work?”'