Hidden Treasures | Page 8

uncle made no

reply.

III
A RAINY DAY
"Bob," said his uncle one rainy Saturday morning, a week later, "it's
such a bad day we can't do anything outdoors, so we'd better sharpen up
the tools; there's a lot of them that need grinding."
"All right," said Bob, and he got a can of water for the grindstone-- an
ancient model, turned by hand.
His uncle gathered up the tools and piled them beside the stone. There
were two double-bitted axes and one pole axe, two brush hooks, three
mowing scythes, a hatchet, a meat cleaver, half a dozen knives, both
long and short--to say nothing of a drawing knife, some chisels and
planes, which were added to the pile as an afterthought.
Bob looked dubiously at the tools as his uncle deposited them near at
hand.
"Are we going to sharpen them all, Uncle Joe?" he inquired, as he took
hold of the handle and set the stone turning.
"Oh, this is only a short job," laughed his uncle, as he picked up a dull
axe and pressed the bit so heavily against the stone that it stopped.
"Why, what's the matter, Bob--not tired before you get started, are
you?" he laughed.
Bob made no reply. He needed all his strength to turn the stone. After a
few minutes' work against his uncle's weight, he was compelled to quit.
"Can't we oil or grease it up or do something to make it turn easier,
Uncle Joe?" he asked as he straightened up.

"Bah, who ever heard of oiling a grindstone?" answered his uncle,
throwing some water on the bearings, which caused a lot of rust to
work out at the ends.
"I guess you'd like to go fishing to-day, instead of working?" he
observed.
"No, Uncle Joe, I'm willing to work," replied Bob, "but you don't know
how hard this old stone turns."
"Oh, I don't, don't I?" said his uncle. "Well, I turned this stone, Bob,
before you were born, and your father turned it before me."
"And you never put any oil or grease on it all that time?" inquired Bob.
"Of course not," said his uncle, "only elbow grease. We boys always
had enough of that to keep the stone running in those days," he
continued with a sarcastic smile.
"Well, there might have been an excuse in those days, Uncle Joe, for
using a hand-power grindstone, but there certainly is none in these days,
with water power, electricity and gasoline," he added, between breaths,
as he began tugging away again at the handle.
"If you wouldn't waste your energy talking nonsense and turn faster, we
would get done sooner," said his uncle bearing down harder than ever.
Bob stopped turning and stood up as straight as his aching back would
allow him, and looking his uncle square in the eyes, said:
"Suppose you turn a while, Uncle Joe, and I'll hold the axe."
"No, you just keep on turning--you don't know how to grind an axe,"
replied his uncle; "besides, that's the boy's job."
"Perhaps you could teach me how it's done, while you're turning," said
Bob, not offering to continue.
"That's only fair, Joe," said his grandfather, coming up suddenly behind

them and overhearing what was said. "The old stone does seem to turn
harder than ever these days."
"Well, I'll show you how easy it turns," said his uncle, starting the stone
spinning, but looked up quickly a moment later as it suddenly slowed
down to a dead stop, for his father, instead of Bob, was holding the axe
against it.
"Go on, Joe; don't stop; it's only a boy's job," he laughed, as he bore
down so hard on the axe that the stone could not be started.
"Where are you going, Bob?" asked his uncle, as Bob started in the
direction of the barn.
"I'm going to the wagon shed, Uncle Joe, to get some axle grease and
see if we can't make the stone turn easier."
The metal plates covering the bearings were removed, and the caked
rust pried out from between the rollers, for the stone had been mounted
on small cast-iron wheels or rollers, but the wheels had been allowed to
become rusted and finally had ceased to revolve.
When the rust had all been cleaned out and the wheels removed and
cleaned, they were well greased and replaced.
"Now try it, Bob," said his grandfather, smiling; "it's a poor rain that
doesn't bring some good."
The stone now spun around easily in the hands of the willing boy, and
by noon all the tools had been ground, including some additional ones
that his grandfather, seeing the work going so fast, had added to the
pile. When all were finished, Bob wiped them off with a greasy rag,
while his