Evening star., 1915-02-17
SOUND Of FALLING AK
ST|RS AN IMAGINATION
Washingtonian Is Carried Far
Away to the Deep North
Woods.

Il heard an AK this morning" said a
fat man on the rear platform of a
you pay -as-I-enter car lie didn't look
as if he had any more imagination IN
der his velour bonnet than the law
allowed. but looks are deceiving, as
the listening reporter soon learned.
L not only heard an ak, or. rather,
axes" he continued but 1 saw the
axmen. and it isn't a common sight or
sound in n big city such as Washing
ton is growing to be. 1t was right
early. before breakfast, and hardly
any one was about Whoever the re-
publicans are that decide on the fate
of passee monarchs. they had decreed
that big tree that had probably
shaded marching Union troops in It's
youth had passed it's days of useful
ness. Two large. husky colored men
had him down when l passed and were
separating his noble trunk into con-
venient logs. Their big. bright-bladed
axes swung with a regular beat and
rang against his heart to the accom-
paniment of the loud grunt with which
the woodchopper always emphasizes
his muscular effort.
Then Something Happens.
But, say. as I passed slowly by
something happened. The tree wasn't
an elm any more, nor were its branch
es bare. 1t became a whale of a yellow
birch, and all round it stood other
smaller birches of various sorts and
spruces and frs. And|the coiored men
weren't colored any more. They We're
dark, though. and needed shaving; but
their deep-set eyes. were blue. And
they didn't wear overalls and close
caps. but homespun trousers tucked
into high moccasins and soft, shapeless
felt hats One had on a faded brown
and gray mackinaw, and the other a
dull red sweater.
Behind them was a fire, nearly dead,
but with a crimson glow in it's heart. l
could see it. and smell it, too And ]?
wasn't a curbStone, but was
standing in the flap of an tent And
lordy, wasn't ] hungry for breakfast?
A little breeze rippled through the
leaves overhead, anu from the cove of
n lake that I couldn't see, but knew
was there, came the ker-ploomp of a
trout that was evidently as hungry for
breakfast as i was. And then L
smelled it cooking-such a breakfast
as you get. in the north woodland
just then the guide In the mackinaw
turned round to me and said:
Boss. kin yo'-all tell me what time it
is, suh?
Transformation Again.
And he was a colored man again, and
the evergreens became dull gray and red
house fronts. and the moss was asphalt.
But the breakfast smell was real, all
right. 1t came from a basement kitchen
nearby. and it's motif was hot ham and
griddle cakes. And so l hurried home
to mine.
Il must cut out these before breakfast
walks, that's sure. They give me pipe
dreams. l guess it was the warmer
tfan-usual weather, too 1 wonder,
though, if the 1915 fishing tackle cata-
logues are out yet?'
The mans listener hadn't once inter
rupted the story. which shows that he,
too, had imagination. And his reply at
ly.
Sound "Gets" Him, Too.
The sound of axes always gets me,
too," he admitted, Especially when it's
way off in the distance, On such occa-
sions 7 turn to .Iny trnsty companion,
whose belt is drawn as tight as my own,
and whose buckskin hunting shirt is as
tattered, and ] point toward the sound
with my long squirrel rife, which con-
tains my last half-ounce of powder, and
/ say dramatically:
Listen, DaA! Them's axes, and axes
mean settlements. We're saved now.
Them consarned. pesky redskins'll never
get our scalpa!"
A good ak costs about a dollar, and
is useful thing in variety of ways.
But sometimes. 1t seems. it isn't a
household article at all but the Pipes Of
great Pan himself.