THE WORK SHOP.
When the boys entered the shop door, the first thing for Phonny to do,
was to look and see if his trap was safe. It _was_ safe. It remained
standing upon the horse-block where he had placed it.
"And now," said Phonny, "the question is, where I am to find a box for
a cage. I must go and look about."
"And I must go and look at my hen-house," said Stuyvesant.
Phonny proposed that Stuyvesant should go with him to find a box, and
then help him make a cage, and after that, he would go, he said, and
help Stuyvesant about the repairs of the hen-house.
"I must go and _look_ at the hen-house first," said Stuyvesant. "I can
do that, while you are finding the box, and then I will help you."
"Well," said Phonny. "But--on the whole, I will go with you to look
at it, and then you can go with me to find the box."
So the boys walked along toward the hen-house together.
When they came to the place, they went in, and Stuyvesant proceeded to
examine the premises very thoroughly. There were two doors of
admission. One was a large one, for men and boys to go in at. The
other was a very small one, a square hole in fact, rather than a door,
and was intended for the hens.
This small opening had once been fitted with a sort of lid, which was
attached by leather hinges on its upper edge to a wooden bar or cleat
nailed to the side of the house, just over the square hole. This lid
formed, of course, a sort of door, opening outward and upward. When
up, it could be fastened in that position, by means of a wooden
button. The button and the bar of wood remained in its place, but the
door was gone.
"Where is the door?" asked Stuyvesant, after he had examined all this
very carefully.
"Why, I took it off," said Phonny, "to make a little stool of. I
wanted a square board just about that size."
"And did you make a stool?" asked Stuyvesant.
"No," said Phonny. "I found that I could not bore the holes for the
legs. I _tried_ to bore a hole, but I split the board."
"Then I must find another piece of board, somewhere," said Stuyvesant.
Stuyvesant next turned his attention to the great door. He swung it to
and fro, to see if the hinges were in order. They were. Next he shut
it, but he found there was nothing to keep it shut.
"There used to be a button," said Phonny.
"Where is the button now?" asked Stuyvesant.
"I don't know," said he. "Let me see;--it must be about here
somewhere."
So saying, Phonny began to look around upon the ground. There was some
litter upon the ground, formed of sticks, straws, &c., and Phonny
began to poke this litter about with his foot.
"I saw it lying down here somewhere, once," said he, "but I can't find
it now."
"Why didn't you pick it up and put it away in some safe place?" said
Stuyvesant, "or get it put on?"
"Why, I don't know," said Phonny. "You see we don't want to shut up
the hens much in the summer."
"No," replied Stuyvesant; "but it is a great deal better to have the
doors all in order."
"Why is it better?" asked Phonny.
"It is more satisfactory," said Stuyvesant.
"Satisfactory!" repeated Phonny. "Hoh!"
Stuyvesant went into the hen-house. Phonny followed him in.
It was a small room, with a loft upon one side of it. The floor was
covered with sticks, straw and litter. In one corner was a barrel,
three quarters filled with hay. There were two or three bars overhead
for the hens to roost upon. Stuyvesant looked around upon all these
objects for a few minutes in silence, and then pointing up to the
loft, he asked,
"What is up there?"
"That is the loft," replied Phonny. "There is nothing up there."
"How do you get up to see?" asked Stuyvesant.
"I can't get up, except when Beechnut is here to boost me," said
Phonny.
"I mean to make a ladder," said Stuyvesant.
"Hoh!" said Phonny, "you can't make a ladder."
"I will try, at any rate," said Stuyvesant. Then after a short pause
and a little more looking around, he added,
"Well, I am ready now to go and help you find your box. I see what I
have got to do here."
"What is it?" asked Phonny.
"I have got a small door to make, and a button for the large door, and
a ladder to get up to the loft. Then I have got to clear the hen-house
all out, and put it in order. What is in this barrel?"
"That is where the hens lay sometimes," said Phonny, "when they don't
lay in the barn."
So saying, Phonny walked into the corner where the barrel stood, and
there he found three eggs in the nest.
"Three eggs," said he. "I think Dorothy has not been out here to-day.
That is the beginning of your profits. You can take two of them; we
have to leave one for the nest-egg."
Phonny proposed that Stuyvesant should carry the eggs in, and give
them to Dorothy; but he said he would not do it then. He would leave
them where they were for the present, and go and look for the box.
Stuyvesant was intending to look, at the same time, for the materials
necessary for his door, his ladder, and his button.
Phonny, accordingly, led the way, and Stuyvesant followed, into
various apartments in the barns and sheds, where lumber was stored, or
where it might be expected to be found. There were several boxes in
these places, but some were too large, and others too small, and one,
which seemed about right in respect to size, was made of rough boards,
and so Phonny thought that it would not do.
At last he found some boxes under a corn-barn, one of which he thought
would do very well. It was about two feet long, when laid down upon
its side, and one foot wide and high. The open part was to be closed
by a wire front which was yet to be made.
"Now," said Phonny, "help me to get the box to the shop, and then
Wallace is coming down to help me make it into a cage."
So Phonny and Stuyvesant, working together, got the box into the shop.
The bench had been cleared off, so that there was a good space there
to put the box upon. Phonny and Stuyvesant placed it there, and then
Phonny went to the trap to see if his squirrel was safe.
"Now, Frink," said he, "we are going to make you a beautiful cage.
Wait a little longer, and then we will let you out of that dark trap."
Phonny said this as he passed across the floor toward the horse-block.
As soon however as he came near to the trap, he suddenly called out to
Stuyvesant,
"Why, Stuyvesant, see how big this hole is."
He referred to the hole which the squirrel had begun to gnaw. Somehow
or other the opening had grown very large. Phonny stooped down with
his hands upon his knees and peeped into the trap.
The squirrel was gone.
"He's gone!" said Phonny. "He's gone!" So saying he lifted up the lid
gradually, and then holding out the empty trap to Stuyvesant, he
exclaimed again in a tone of despair,--"He's gone!"
"He gnawed out," said Stuyvesant.
"Yes," said Phonny.
There were two windows in Phonny's shop. One was over the work bench
and was an ordinary window, formed with sashes. The other was merely a
large square hole with a sort of lid or shutter opening upward and
outward, like the small door of the hen-house. Phonny used to call
this his shutter window. It was the place where he was accustomed to
throw out his shavings.
Of course there was no glass in this window, and nothing to keep out
the wind and rain when it was open. In stormy weather, therefore, it
was always kept shut. The shavings which Phonny threw out here formed
a little pile outside, and after accumulating for some time, Phonny
used to carry them away and burn them.
As Phonny stood showing the empty cage to Stuyvesant, his back was
turned toward this window, but Stuyvesant was facing it. Happening at
that instant to glance upward, behold, there was the squirrel, perched
at his ease upon a beam which passed along just over the window.
Stuyvesant did not say a word, but pointed to the place. Phonny looked
up and saw the squirrel.
[Illustration: FRINK ON THE BEAM.]
"Oo--oo--oo!--" said Phonny.
"Shut the window," he exclaimed. "Let us shut the window quick," he
added impatiently; and then creeping softly up to the place, he took
hold of the prop which held the shutter up, and gently drawing it in,
he let the shutter down into its place.
"Shut the other window," said Phonny. "Climb up on the bench, Stivy,
and shut the other window as quick as you can."
Stuyvesant clambered up upon the bench and shut down the sash of the
window.
"Now for the door," said Phonny; and he ran to the door and shut it,
looking round as he went, toward the squirrel. As soon as he got the
door shut he seemed relieved.
"There," said he, "we have got him safe. The only thing now is to
catch him."
Here followed quite a long consultation between the two boys, in
respect to the course which it was now best to pursue. Phonny's
first plan was to put the trap upon the table and then for him and
Stuyvesant to drive the squirrel into it. Stuyvesant however thought
that that would be a very difficult operation.
"If the squirrel were a horse," said he, "and the trap a barn, we
might possibly get him in; but as it is, I don't believe the thing can
be done."
Phonny next proposed to chase the squirrel round the shop until they
caught him. Stuyvesant objected to this too.
"We should frighten him," said he, "and make him very wild; and
besides we might hurt him dreadfully in catching and holding him. Very
likely we should pull his tail off."
After considerable consultation, the boys concluded to let the
squirrel remain for a time at liberty in the shop, taking care to keep
the door and windows shut. They thought that by this means he would
become accustomed to see them working about, and would grow tame;
perhaps so tame that by-and-by, Phonny might catch him in his hand.
"And then, besides," said Phonny, "we can set the trap for him here
to-night, when we go away, and perhaps he will go into it, and get
caught so before morning."
"Then we mustn't feed him any this afternoon," said Stuyvesant. "He
won't go into the trap to-night, unless he is hungry."
"Well," said Phonny, "we won't feed him. I will leave him to himself,
and let him do what he pleases, and I'll go to work and make my cage."
Phonny's plan for his cage was this. Stuyvesant helped him form it. He
was to take some wire, a coil of which he found hanging up in the
shed, and cut it into lengths suitable for the bars of his cage. Then
he was going to bore a row of holes in the top of his box, near the
front edge, with a small gimlet. These holes were to be about half an
inch apart, and to be in a line about half an inch from the front
edge of the top of the box. The wires were to be passed down through
these holes, and then in the bottom of the box, at the points where
the ends of those wires would come, respectively, he was to bore other
holes, partly through the board, to serve as sockets to receive the
lower ends of the wires.
This plan being all agreed upon, Phonny climbed up upon the bench,
with his gimlet in his hand, and taking his seat upon the box, was
beginning to bore the holes.
"Stop," said Stuyvesant, "you ought to draw a line and mark off the
places first."
"Oh no," said Phonny, "I can guess near enough."
"Well," said Stuyvesant, "though I don't think that guessing is a good
way."
Phonny thought that it would take a great while to draw a line and
measure off the distances, and so he went on with his boring, looking
up, however, continually from his work, to watch the squirrel.
"And now," said Stuyvesant, "I will begin my work."
Stuyvesant accordingly went out, taking great care, as he opened and
shut the door, not to let the squirrel escape. Presently he returned,
bringing his materials. There was a short board for the small door,
two long strips for the sides of the ladder, and another long strip,
which was to be sawed up into lengths for the cross-bars.
Stuyvesant began first with his door. He went out to the hen-house,
carrying with him an instrument called a square, on which feet and
inches were marked. With this he measured the hole which his door was
to cover, and then making proper allowance for the extension of the
door, laterally, beyond the hole, he determined on the length to which
he would saw off his board. He determined on the breadth in the same
way.
He then went to the shop and sawed off the board to the proper length,
and then, with the hatchet and plane, he trimmed it to the proper
breadth. Next he made two hinges of leather, and nailed them on in
their places, upon the upper side of the board. He then carried his
work out to the hen-house, and nailed the ends of the hinges to the
cross-bar provided for them. When this was all done, he turned the lid
up and fastened it into its place.
Then, standing up, he surveyed his work with a look of satisfaction,
and said,
"There!"
He returned to the shop again. When he came to the door he opened it a
very little way, and paused, calling out to Phonny, to know if the
squirrel was anywhere near.
"No," said Phonny, "come in."
So he went in. The squirrel had run along the beams to the back part
of the shop, and was nibbling about there among some blocks of wood.
"I have a great mind to feed him," said Phonny. "He is hungry."
"Well," said Stuyvesant.
So Phonny took the ear of corn out of the trap, and breaking it into
two or three pieces he carried the parts into the back part of the
shop, and put them at different places on the beams. Then he crept
back to his work again.
Stuyvesant went to work making his button. He selected a proper piece
of wood, sawed it off of the proper length, and then shaped it into
the form of a button by means of a chisel, working, in doing this, at
the bench. As soon as this operation was completed, he took a large
gimlet and bored a hole through the center of the button. He measured
very carefully to find the exact center of the button, before he began
to bore.
When the button was finished, Stuyvesant looked in Phonny's nail-box
to find a large screw, and when he had found one, he took the
screw-driver and went out to the hen-house and screwed the button on.
When the screw was driven home to its place, Stuyvesant shut the door
and buttoned it. Then standing before it with his screw-driver in his
hand, he surveyed his work with another look of satisfaction, and
said,
"There! there are two good jobs done."
He then opened and shut his two doors, both the large and the small
one, to see once more whether they worked well. They did work
perfectly well, so he turned away and went back toward the shop again,
saying,
"Now for the ladder."
He went back to the shop and entered cautiously as before. He found
that Phonny had bored quite a number of holes, and was now engaged in
cutting his wire into lengths. He used for this purpose a pair of
cutting-plyers, as they are called, an instrument formed much like a
pair of nippers. The instrument was made expressly for cutting off
wire.
Stuyvesant came to the place where Phonny was at work, and stood near
him a few minutes looking on. He perceived that the holes were not in
a straight line, nor were they equidistant from each other. He,
however, said nothing about it, but soon went to his own work again.
He took the piece of wood which he had selected to make his cross-bars
of, and began to consider how many cross-bars he could make from it.
"What is that piece of wood for?" asked Phonny.
"It is for the cross-bars of my ladder," said Stuyvesant.
"The cross-bars of a ladder ought to be round," said Phonny. "They
always make them round. In fact they call them _rounds_."
"Yes," said Stuyvesant, "I know they do, but I can't make rounds very
well. And besides if I could, I could not make the holes in the
side-pieces to put them into. So I am going to make them square, and
nail them right on."
"Hoh!" said Phonny, "that is no way to make a ladder. You can bore
the holes easily enough. Here. I'll show you how. I've got an auger."
So saying, Phonny jumped down from the bench and went and climbed up
upon the chopping-block to get down an auger. Phonny had two augers,
and they both hung over the block. He took down one and began very
eagerly to bore a hole into the side of the chopping-block. He bored
in a little way, and then, in attempting to draw the auger out, to
clear the hole of chips, the handle came off, leaving the auger itself
fast in the hole.
"Ah! this auger is broken," said Phonny, "I forgot that. I could bore
a hole if the auger was not broken."
"Never mind," said Stuyvesant, "I don't think I could make a ladder
very well in that way, and don't like to undertake any thing that I
can't accomplish. So I will make it my way."
Stuyvesant went out to the hen-house, and measured the height of the
loft. He found it to be seven feet. He concluded to have his ladder
eight feet long, and to have six cross-bars, one foot apart, the upper
and lower cross-bars to be one foot from the ends of the ladder. The
cross-bars themselves being about two inches wide each, the breadth of
the whole six would be just one foot. This Stuyvesant calculated would
make just the eight feet.
Stuyvesant then went back to the shop. He found that the pieces which
he had chosen for the sides of the ladder were just about eight feet
long.
Phonny came to him while he was measuring, to see what he was going to
do.
"How wide are you going to have your ladder?" said he.
"I don't know," said Stuyvesant. "I am going to have it as wide as I
can."
So saying, Stuyvesant took down the piece which he had intended for
the cross-bars.
"I am going to divide this into six equal parts," said he, "because I
must have six bars."
So Stuyvesant began to measure. The piece of wood, he found, was eight
feet long,--the same as the side pieces of the ladder.
"And now, how are you going to divide it?" said Phonny.
"Why, eight feet," said Stuyvesant, "make ninety-six inches. I must
divide that by six."
So he took a pencil from his pocket and wrote down the figures 96 upon
a board; he divided the number by 6.
"It will go 16 times," said he. "I can have 16 inches for each cross
bar."
Stuyvesant then measured off sixteen inches, and made a mark, then he
measured off sixteen inches more, and made another mark. In the same
manner, he proceeded until he had divided the whole piece into
portions of sixteen inches each. He then took a saw and sawed the
piece off at every place where he had marked.
"There," said he, "there are my cross-bars!"
"What good cross-bars," said Phonny. "That was an excellent way to
make them."