The storm blew itself out by early afternoon, so we headed out to Archimedes’ favorite flint-working spot. I was impressed by the amount of flint flakes lying discarded on the ground. Someone pushed them into a pile occasionally, when they started to become an irritant, so there was an even larger heap of flakes a few feet away. Children would often pick through the pile, looking for flakes that could be made into arrow-heads. Archimedes didn’t mind—he made more than enough product to trade for everything he and his family could want.