About an hour after breakfast, Jonas with the oxen, and Oliver and Josey with the horse, were slowly moving along up the road which led back from the pond towards the wood lot.  The wood lot was a portion of the forest, which had been reserved, to furnish a supply of wood for the winter fires.  The road followed for some distance the bank of the brook, which emptied into the pond at the place where Jonas and Oliver had cleared land, when Jonas first came to live on this farm.

It was a very pleasant road.  The brook was visible here and there through the bushes and trees on one side of it.  These bushes and trees were of course bare of leaves, excepting the evergreens, and they were loaded down with the snow.  Some were bent over so that the tops nearly touched the ground.

The brook itself, too, was almost buried and concealed in the snow.  In the still places, it had frozen over; and so the snow had been supported by the ice, and thus it concealed both ice and water.  At the little cascades and waterfalls, however, which occurred here and there, the water had not frozen.  Water does not freeze easily where it runs with great velocity.  At these places, therefore, the boys could see the water, and hear it bubbling and gurgling as it fell, and disappeared under the ice which had formed below.

At last, they came to the wood lot.  The wood which they were going to haul had been cut before, and it had been piled up in long piles, extending here and there under the trees which had been left.  These piles were now, however, partly covered with the snow, which lay light and unsullied all over the surface of the ground.

The sticks of wood in these piles were of different sizes, though they were all of the same length.  Some had been cut from the tops of the trees, or from the branches, and were, consequently, small in diameter; others were from the trunks, which would, of course, make large logs.  These logs had, however, been split into quarters by a beetle and wedges, when the wood had been prepared, so that there were very few sticks or logs so large, but that Jonas could pretty easily get them on to the sled.

Jonas drove his team up near to one end of the pile, while Josey and Oliver went to the other, where the wood was generally small.  While Jonas was loading, he heard a conversation something like this between the other boys: ­

“Let’s put some good large logs on our sled,” said Josey.

“Well,” said Oliver, “as large as we can; only we’d better put this small wood on first.”

“I wish you’d go around to the other side, Oliver,” said Josey again; “you’re in my way.”

“No,” said Oliver, “I can’t work on that side very well.”

“Then I mean to move the old General round a little.”

“No,” said Oliver, “the sled stands just right now; only you get up on the top of the pile, and I’ll stay here.”  “No,” said Josey, “I’d rather stand here myself.”

So the boys continued at work a few minutes longer, each being in the other’s way.

At length, Josey said again, ­

“O, here is a large log, and I mean to get it out, and put it upon our sled.”

The log was covered with smaller wood, so that Josey could only get hold of the end of it.  He clasped his hands together under this end, and began to lift it up, endeavoring to get it free from the other wood.  He succeeded in raising it a little, but it soon got wedged in again, worse than before.

“Come, Oliver,” said Josey, “help me get out this log.  It is rock maple.”

“No,” said Oliver, “I’m busy.”

“Jonas,” said Josey, calling out aloud, “Jonas, here’s a stick of wood, which I can’t get out.  I wish you’d come and help me.”

In answer to this request, Jonas only called both the boys to come to him.

They accordingly left the old General standing in the snow, with his sled partly loaded, and came to the end of the pile, where Jonas was at work.

“I see you don’t get along very well,” said Jonas.

“Why, you see,” said Josey, “that Oliver wouldn’t help me put on a great log.”

“The difficulty is,” said Jonas, “that you both want to be master.  Whereas, when two people are working together, one must be master, and the other servant.”

“I don’t want to be servant,” said Josey.

“It’s better to be servant on some accounts,” said Jonas; “then you have no responsibility.”

“Responsibility?” repeated Josey.

“Yes,” said Jonas.  “Power and responsibility always go together; ­or at least they ought to.  But come, boys, be helping me load, while we are settling this difficulty, so as not to lose our time.”

So the boys began to put wood upon Jonas’s sled, while the conversation continued as follows: ­

“Can’t two persons work together, unless one is master, and the other servant?” asked Josey.

“At least,” replied Jonas, “one must take the lead, and the other follow, in order to work to advantage.  There must be subordination.  For you see that, in all sorts of work, there are a great many little questions coming up, which are of no great consequence, only they ought to be decided, one way or the other, quick, or else the work won’t go on.  You act, in your work, like Jack and Jerry, when they ran against the horse-block.”

“Why, how was that?” said Josey.

“They were drawing the wagon along to harness the horse in, and the horse-block was in the way; so they both got hold of the shafts, and Jack wanted to pull it around towards the right, while Jerry said it would be better to have it go to the left.  So they pulled, one one way, and the other the other, and thus they got it up chock against the horse-block, one shaft on each side.  Here they stood pulling in opposition for some time, and all the while their father was waiting for them to turn the wagon, and harness the horse.”

“What did he say to them,” said Oliver, “when he found it out?”

“He made Jack bring it round Jerry’s way, and then made Jerry draw it back again, and bring it along Jack’s way.

“When men are at work,” continued Jonas, “one acts as director, and the rest follows on, as he guides.  Then all the unimportant questions are decided promptly.”

“Well,” said Josey, “let us do so, Oliver.  I’ll be director.”

“How do they decide who shall be director?” said Oliver.

“The oldest and most experienced directs, generally; or, if one is the employer, and the others are employed by him, then the employer directs the others.  If a man wants a stone bridge built, and hires three men to do it, there is always an understanding, at the beginning, who shall have the direction of the work, and all the others obey.

“So,” continued Jonas, “if a carpenter were to send two of his men into the woods to cut down a tree for timber, without saying which of them should have the direction, ­then the oldest or most experienced, or the one who had been the longest in the carpenter’s employ, would take the direction.  He would say, ‘Let us go out this way,’ and the other would assent; or, ‘I think we had better take this tree,’ and the other would say, perhaps, ’Here’s one over here which looks rather straighter; won’t you come and look at this?’ But they would not dispute about it.  One would leave it to the other to decide.”

“Suppose,” said Josey, “one was just as old and experienced as the other.”

“Why, if there was no reason, whatever, why one should take the lead, rather than the other, then they would not either of them be tenacious of their opinion.  If one proposed to do a thing, the other would comply without making any objection, unless he had a very decided objection indeed.  So they would get along peaceably.

“Now,” continued Jonas, “boys are very apt to have different opinions, and to be very tenacious of them, and so get into disputes and difficulties when they are working together.  Therefore, when boys are set to work, it is generally best to appoint one to take charge; for they haven’t, generally, good sense enough to find out, themselves, which it is most proper should be in charge.

“For instance, now,” continued Jonas, “which of you, do you think, on the whole, is the proper one to take the direction of the work, when you are set to work together?”

“I,” said Josey, with great promptness.

Oliver did not answer at all.

“There’s one reason why you ought not to be the one,” said Jonas.

“What is it?” said Josey.

“Why, you don’t obey very well.  No person is well qualified to command, until he has learned to obey.”

“I obey,” said Josey, “I’m sure.”

“Not always,” said Jonas.  “This morning, when you were upon the haymow, and I told you both to go down, Oliver went down immediately; but you remained up, and made excuses instead of obeying.”

Josey was silent.  He perceived that Jonas’s charge against him was just.

“Besides,” continued Jonas, “there are some other reasons why Oliver should command, rather than you.  First he understands more of farmer’s work, being more accustomed to it; secondly, he is older.”

“No,” interrupted Josey, “he isn’t older.  I’m the oldest.”

“Are you?” said Jonas.

“Yes,” replied Josey.  “I’m two months older than he is.”

Oliver had so much more prudence and discretion, and being, besides, a little larger than Josey, made Jonas think that he was older.

“Well,” said Jonas, “at any rate, he has more judgement and experience, and he certainly obeys better.  So you may go back to your work, and let Oliver take the command, and then, after a little while, if Oliver says that you have obeyed him well, I’ll try the experiment of letting you, Josey, command.”

The boys accordingly went back, and finished loading up the old General.  Oliver took the direction, and Josey obeyed very well.  Now and then he would forget for a moment, and begin to argue; but Josey would submit pretty readily, for he was very desirous that Jonas would let him command next time; and he thought that he would not allow him to command until he had learned to obey.

They had the two sleds loaded nearly at the same time, and then went down.  When they were going back after the second load, they all got on to Jonas’s sled, which was forward, to ride, leaving the old General to follow with his sled.  He was so well trained that he walked along very steadily.  Oliver fastened the reins to one of the stakes, so that they should not get down under the horse’s feet.  The boys all got together upon the forward sled, in order that they might talk with one another as they were going back to the woods.

“Now, Josey,” said Jonas, “we will let you have the command for the next trip, and, while we are going back, I will give you both some instructions.”

“About obeying?” said Josey.

“Yes, and about commanding too,” said Jonas.  “It requires rather more skill to know how to command, than how to obey; to know how to direct work, than to know how to execute it.  A good director, in the first place, takes care to plan wisely, and he feels a responsibility about the work, and a desire to have it go on to good advantage.  If some men build a way, and, after it is finished, it tumbles down, the man who had charge of the work would feel more concerned about it than any of the others, because the chief responsibility comes upon him.  So with your work, ­if you have the command, and you and Oliver idle away the time, and when my sled is loaded, yours has but little wood in it, you would be more to blame than Oliver.”

“What, if I didn’t play any more than Oliver?”

“Yes,” said Jonas, “because you are responsible.  It is your duty to be industrious, and it is also your duty to see that Oliver is industrious, if you are the director, ­so that you neglect two duties.

“It is a good plan, too,” said Jonas, “for a director to give his directions in a mild and gentle tone.  Some boys are very domineering and authoritative in their manner.”

“How do you mean?” said Josey.

“Why, they would say, for example, ‘Get out of the way, John, quick.’  Whereas, it would be better to say, ’John, you are in the way, where we want to come along.’  Some men give their directions with great noise and vociferation, and others give them quietly and gently.”

“I shouldn’t think they’d mind ’em,” said Josey.

“Yes,” said Jonas.  “Directions ought to be given very distinctly, so as to be plainly understood; but they are not obeyed any better for violence and noise in giving them.

“A commander ought to have a regard for those under him,” continued Jonas, “and deal justly by them.  If a number of boys were going to ride a wagon, and their father put one of them in charge, he ought not to keep the best seat in the wagon for himself.”

While talking thus, the oxen continued slowly advancing along the road.  Their previous trip had broken out the road, but the pathway was filled with loose snow of a pure and spotless white, through which the great sled runners, following the oxen, ploughed their way.  On each side of the track which they had made, the surface was smooth and unbroken, excepting under some of the trees, where masses of snow had fallen down from above.  They saw, at length, as they were passing along by the brook, a little track, like a double dotting, running along, in a winding way, under the trees, ­then crossing the road, and disappearing under the trees upon the other side.

“What’s that?” asked Josey.

“That’s a rabbit track,” replied Oliver.

“Let’s go and catch him,” said Josey.

“No,” said Jonas, “we must go on with our work.”

At a little distance farther on, they saw another track.  It was larger than the first, and not so regular.

“What sort of a track is that?” said Josey.

“I don’t know,” said Oliver; “it looks like a dog’s track; but I shouldn’t think there would be a dog out here in the woods.”

They found that this track followed the road along for some distance.  The animal which made it, seemed sometimes to have gone in the middle of the road, and sometimes out at the side; and Jonas said that he had passed there since they went down with the first load of wood.

“How do you know?” said Oliver.

“Because,” said Jonas, “his track is made upon the broken snow, in the middle of the road.”

They watched the track for some time, and then they lost sight of it.  Presently, however, they saw it again.

“I wonder which way he went,” said Oliver.

“I’ll jump off, and look at the track,” said Jonas.

So saying, he jumped off the sled, and examined the track.

“He went up,” said Jonas, “the same way that we are going.  It may be a dog which has lost his master.  Perhaps we shall find him up by our wood piles.”

Jonas was right, for, when the boys arrived at the wood piles, they found there, waiting for them, a large black dog.  He stood near one end of a wood pile, with his fore feet upon a log, by which his head and shoulders were raised, so that he could see better who was coming.  He was of handsome form, and he had an intelligent and good-natured expression of countenance.  He was looking very intently at the party coming up, to see whether his master was among them.

“Whose dog is that?” said Josey.

“I don’t know,” said Oliver; “I never saw him before.”

“I wonder what his name is,” said Josey.  “Here!  Towzer, Towzer, Towzer,” said he.

“Here!  Caesar, Caesar, Caesar,” said Oliver.

“Pompey, Pompey, Pompey,” said Jonas.

The dog remained motionless in his position, until, just as the boys had finished their calls, and as the foremost sled was drawn pretty near him, he suddenly wheeled around with a leap, and bounded away through the snow, for half the length of the first wood pile, and then stopped, and again looked round.

“I wish we had something for him to eat,” said Jonas.

“I’ve got a piece of bread and butter,” said Josey.  “I went in and got it when you and Oliver were unloading.”

So Josey took his bread and butter out of his pocket.  There were two small slices put together, and folded up in a piece of paper.  Jonas took a piece, and walked slowly towards the dog.

“Here!  Franco, Franco,” said Jonas.

“He’s coming,” said Josey, who remained with Oliver at the sled.

The dog was slowly and timidly approaching the bread which Jonas held out towards him.

“He’s coming,” said Josey.  “His name is Franco.  I wonder how Jonas knew.”

“Franco, Franco,” said Jonas again.  “Come here, Franco.  Good Franco!”

The dog came timidly up to Jonas, and took the bread and butter from Josey’s hand, and devoured it eagerly.  While he was doing it, Jonas patted him on the head.

“He’s very hungry,” said Jonas; “bring the rest of your bread and butter, Josey.”

So Josey brought the rest of his luncheon, and the dog ate it all.

After this, he seemed to be quite at ease with his new friends.  He staid about there with the boys until the sleds were loaded, and then he went down home with them.  There they fed him again with a large bone.  Jonas said that he was undoubtedly a dog that had lost his master, and had been wandering about to find him, until he became very hungry.  So he said they would leave him in the yard to gnaw his bone, and that then he would probably go away.  Josey wanted to shut him up and keep him, but Jonas said it would be wrong.

So the boys left the dog gnawing his bone, and went up after another load; but before they had half loaded their sleds, Oliver saw Franco coming, bounding up the road, towards them.  He came up to Jonas, and stood before him, looking up into his face and wagging his tail.