There's a lot of wood lying around the farm, some from the building of the barn, especially the leftovers from the other barn that was pulled down, and Dad has also been bringing home trim ends from a sawmill and planer close to where he works. To make use of all this wood, Dad gets a buzz saw installed on a rolling rack built onto the front of the tractor, so the pulley on the side drives a five inch belt that runs the saw. Together, Dad and Jack cut up a lot of the wood for firewood. And they go out a few times cutting wood for others, at first for the men who helped with the barn, and then for other acquaintances.
Soon Dad withdraws from this, as he is busy with his own work, and it becomes a part time job for Jack. He learns to file the one inch teeth with a flat file, and to set them (bend the tips out so the kerf will be wide enough that the blade doesn't bind in the wood) with a brass punch. Most of the men who want him to cut wood have full time jobs, so there's not much time available except on the weekends. And that means working on Sunday. Jack doesn't like that. He has been brought up to keep the Sabbath day holy - and it cuts into his treasured reading time. In trying to come to terms with this problem he has a bitter exchange with Harp Rosenburg, one of the men who helped with the barn. He's a short strawberry blond character, slight of build, with a chip on his shoulder, always pugnacious.
Harp, "You won't come and cut my wood?"
"Sure I'll cut your wood, but not on Sunday!"
"Well, I'll just get your dad to do it, then. He's not the bloody hypocrite you are!"
But Jack doesn't give in, and Harp's wood gets cut over two Saturdays. Jack is surprised - there's no significant resentment or any unpleasant repercussions. He finds yet again, it's not at all difficult to deal on an even footing, even to manipulate, adults. Strange, that such a thing should be possible. Adults do not seem very adult. He wonders where his self-assurance comes from. It seems almost outrageous that he feels justified, sometimes almost compelled, to question and even face down grownups, whom he should regard with respect, who should by all civilized standards and force of instilled custom, dominate him.
And he ponders his origins. Who were his parents? What was his mother like? What sort of person was his father? And why did they abandon him. Are they alive? What is happening in Bhutan. Did Brother Andre locate his monks? He wishes he could find out some of these things. He should write that letter!
