There was something strangely like the stealthy alertness of the animals in their attitudes.
Waiting in the gloom among the pine-trunks, he gathered that the quarrel was about the sharpening of tools.

Drummond had brought some cutters from the boring machine, and Driscoll wanted his ax ground.
"I came along first," Drummond declared.

"Tom's going to fix my cutters; your ax has got to wait!" He glanced at the smith, sharply, as if reluctant to move his eyes from Driscoll.

"Give the wheel a spin and let's get busy!" "He certainly won't," said Driscoll; "I've unshipped the handle.

You'll get your cutters quickest if you quit talking and wait until I'm through." "That's not playing it like a white man.