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Updated: May 8, 2025
If I were a country boy I should be more proud of skilful axemanship than to be pitcher on the village nine. With a good axe, a good rifle, and a good knife, a man can take care of himself in the woods for days, and the axe is more important even than the rifle. The easiest way to learn to be an axeman is to make the acquaintance of some woodchopper in your neighbourhood. But let me warn you.
He, too, shudders as he thinks of the past and remembers the long roll, Chancellorsville, the Wilderness, Spottsylvania and the others. Even the poor woodchopper knows that this melancholy tract of ground has borne more dead men's bones than any other of which history tells, and now and then he asks why, but no one can give him the answer he wishes.
"I'm Sandy Moogs my dad's a woodchopper workin' now up yonder 'bout three miles tree fell on him broke his leg, he reckons in a heap o' pain can't hardly crawl knowed you-uns was at Cabin Point sent me to git help he sez as how he'll bleed to death by mawnin' if he ain't helped I hopes as how you'll kim along with me he's my dad, you know!"
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