He ranged as he pleased and came for a pat or a look of confidence when he grew lonely, while the Harvester worked.
At camp the man unhitched Betsy and tied her to the wagon and for several hours distributed buckets.

Then he hung the kettles and gathered wood for the fire.

At noon he returned to the cabin for lunch and brought back a load of empty syrup cans, and barrels in which to collect the sap.

While the buckets filled at the dripping trees, he dug roots in the sassafras thicket to fill orders and supply the demand of Onabasha for tea.

Several times he stopped to cut an especially fine tree.
"You know I hate to kill you," he apologized to the first one he felled.
"But it certainly must be legitimate for a man to take enough of his trees to build a home.