“We’ll have one before to-morrow night,” added Mr. Lincoln, with a shrug of the shoulder.

“How will you make it?” inquired Abraham, who was growing interested.

“You’ll see when it’s done: I shall need some of your help, and if you do fust rate, you may try the rifle some day.” The boy had been promised before that he should learn to shoot.

“I like that,” said the lad.

“And so shall I, if you make a marksman. You can be a great help to us by killing game to cook. When you get so that you can pop over a turkey or a deer, I shan’t need to hunt any.”

“Will you let me do it?”

“Yes, and be glad to have you. The woods are full of game, and you shall have a chance to make a good shot.”

Abraham was delighted with the prospect of making a gunner, and he went to his hard bed that night with glowing thoughts of the future. The morrow’s sun found him up and ready to assist his father in making a grist-mill.

“The first thing is a log,” said his father; and he proceeded to look for a tree of suitable dimensions; nor was he long in finding one.

“When I get it ready, I shall want you to make a fire on’t, Abe,” he continued.

“What! burn it up?” screamed the boy, not understanding what his father meant.

“Ha! not quite so bad as that. It wouldn’t be wuth much for a mill if’t was burnt up.”

“Didn’t you say make a fire on’t?”

“Yes, on the top of it; we must burn a hole in it a foot deep, to put corn in; so get your fire ready.”

It was not long before the tree was prostrate, and a portion of the trunk cut off about four feet long. Setting it upon one end, Mr. Lincoln continued, “Here, Abe, that’s what I mean by making a fire on’t. You must make a fire right on the top of it, and burn a hole in it well nigh a foot deep. I’ll help you.”

The fire was soon kindled, and Abraham’s curiosity was at the highest pitch. What was coming next was more than he could tell,—and no wonder.

“Now, bring some water; we must keep it wet.”

“And put out the fire?” said Abraham, inquiringly.

“No, no; we must keep the outside of it wet, so that the whole of it won’t burn. We don’t want to burn the outside—only a hole in the centre.”

Abraham saw through it now, and he hastened to get the water. The fire was kept burning while Mr. Lincoln looked up a spring-pole, to one end of which he attached a pestle.

“What is that for?” asked Abraham.

“You’ll see when I get it into working order,” replied his father. “Keep the fire a-goin’ till it’s burnt deep enough.”

“It’ll never burn as deep as you say.”