orked on and on, for a very, very long time. Still the
bowlder would not chip, and his arm was ready to drop off.

[Illustration: He struck with his hammer stone]

At last Redtop said, "Enough for to-day! You will do."

Thorn threw down his stones with a shout and ran to his grandfather.

Old Flint sat at work under a big beech tree. At his side there was a
little pile of bowlders, and about him there were chips of flint.

"Well," he said, as he looked up at the boy, "how is stone work?"

"It is not so easy as it looks, and it makes my arm hurt," said the boy
soberly; "but Redtop said that I would do."

"Um," grunted the old man with an unsmiling face, the while laughing to
himself.

He worked on. After a time he said, "The little thing you shoot with,
your bow--did you bring it?"

"Oh, yes!"

"Well, I will make a little stone head for the stick."

"Good, grandfather!" said Thorn, clapping his hands.

Flint took a pebble from the pile and struck it with his hammer stone.
It did not chip in the right way, so he threw it on the chip pile. He
struck another. That was too soft; he threw that away. He tried many
pebbles before he found a good one.

"This will do," he said at last. "The chip leaves a slight rounding
hollow like the inside of my hand."

Then he began to work. He held the pebble in his left hand and struck
it a sharp blow with another pebble. He went on striking, round and
round the pebble, taking off a flake or a big chip at every blow. At
last the part of the pebble left was too small to work with any more.
It was the core; he threw it away.

[Illustration: He held the pebble in his left hand and struck it a
sharp blow]

"We chip axes by striking," he then said to the young ax maker. "That
way of chipping is good enough for axes; they are heavy and have,
besides, the weight of the arm to carry the blow. With spear heads it
is different; a spear is thrown, and the head should be sharp. I can
get a smaller chip, and so a sharper edge, by pressing than by
striking; so I chip my spear heads by pressure."

He laid a little piece of deer skin in his left hand. On this he laid
one of the flakes he had just broken from the pebble, and held it fast
with his fingers. Then he took a piece of deer antler.

"This antler," he said, "is soft enough to spring a little when I press
it against the pebble. Yet it is hard enough to bring off a chip."

He began pressing with the antler alon