Chapter 19:- On the Mountain
If not for my mother, my education would have ended there. Father felt I had enough education to keep records for the family lumber company. During my eleventh summer, I was sent onto the mountain to keep records of the cutters, numbers of trees, sizes and types. I had a pencil and a small, narrow notebook in which to record what I saw. The pencil was good except when the paper became moist, then graphite did not stick and paper tore.

Father gave me a clasp knife to keep the pencil sharp. My first real knife! I felt it was the finest thing a boy could have other than a rifle. Sure, it was old and used, but not used up. One of the bone scales was chipped, the main blade was ground to half its width in a slight crescent, but could still be brought to razor sharpness. Father taught me a dull tool could turn and cut you. The small blade was razor sharp, too, for cutting quill when writing in ink. It also had an awl for punching leather, a corkscrew, and a screwdriver.

My writing was very good by mountain standards, but Father wanted me to use lettering instead for easier reading.

Often, I was sent into heavy cutting areas. I soon met the foreman Lloyd Kreitter and his brother Karl. I was a big for eleven closing in on twelve. The Kreitters thought it was a crime that I did not know how to use an axe, only a pencil. They saw the axe as a man’s tool, not a pencil. I am sure Father knew about this part of my education and he had a great deal of faith in his foreman. He also knew I must gain the respect of the men if I would possibly someday run the lumber company. First, Lloyd brought out a box with some single bit, teamster’s axe heads. No self respecting timber man would use one, but this is what a boy learned with. My first chore was to select one of top quality. Lloyd took time to explain what I was looking for and how to best make a judgment. There were both cast and forged heads. The cast heads were smoother, cleaner, and prettier, much more appealing to the eye. The forged axes looked rough and somewhat rusty. The trick was to hold the axe head at the eye and snap your index finger nail sharply behind the edge. The ringing tone would tell the quality of the axe head. The cast heads usually answered with a “thunk”. Now it came down to selecting a ring that an axe man felt was right for him. Teamster’s axe or not, judgment was important. After one and a half hours of sitting by the box of axes, I was down to three. Lloyd checked each and asked which was the right one. I selected and he approved. Next, was the selection of hickory handles kept at the logging site. Each man always selected and fit his own handle. If the grain was wrong or the fit poor, a handle could break or an axe head would fly loose, possibly injuring someone. It took me three days to select and fit the handle so Lloyd approved. Father kept a constant check on my progress.