Peuff! He is of glass!" Barry joined him, studying the splintered fragments of the spruce, suddenly to bend forward in wonderment.
"That's queer.

Here's a railroad spike driven clear into the heart." "Huh?
What's that ?" Ba'tiste bent beside him to examine the rusty spike, then hurried to a minute examination of the rest of the tree.
"And another," came at last.

"And more!" Four heavy spikes had revealed themselves now, each jutting forth at a place where the tree had split.

Ba'tiste straightened.
"Ah, _oui_! Eet is no wonder! See?
The spike, they have been in the tree for mebbe one, two, t'ree year.

And the tree, he is not strong.
When the winter come, last year, he split inside, from the frost, where the spike, he spread the grain.