“No, you don’t,” interrupted Corporal Robe, quick to detect the little subterfuge of Uncle Elk to draw them out: “that isn’t the right way to crack a butternut.”
“It isn’t!” repeated the old gentleman, in pretended surprise; “will you be good enough to explain the proper method?”
“I don’t think there is much need of explaining, for every fellow knows or ought to know that you should stand the nut on one end and strike the top.”
“What advantage do you gain by that plan?”
“The meat is not broken,—that is if you are careful. I have often cracked a butternut so that the meat came out without a break.”
“I like the butternut more than the walnut,” remarked Alvin Landon.
“So do I, but it has another use than to serve as food or a luxury. Of course you can tell me what that is.”
He looked into the expectant faces, but no one could answer him.
“The oil is, or once was, very popular with jewelers. I remember that my father would squeeze out a drop, which was sufficient to lubricate all the works of the family clock. He applied the oil with a tiny feather and never needed more than the single drop. The jewelers have a refined fluid which serves their purposes, but father would never admit that any oil equaled that of the butternut. It has always been one of my favorites, much more so than that small tree growing in that dry sandy soil, which we call—what?”
Considerable discussion took place before the Instructor accepted the name and description of the common or aspen-leaved birch, whose wood is soft, close grained, weak, splits in drying and is valueless for weather and ground work. Each armpit has a black, triangular scar, which does not appear in the canoe birch.
Uncle Elk gave the boys a brief talk on the genus of trees known as the _Betulaceœ_ or birch.
“Its flowers grow in catkins—so called from their resemblance to a cat’s tail—whose scales are thin and three-lobed. With one exception the species grows beyond the tropic in the northern hemisphere.”
“Will you tell us something about the birch from which canoes are made?” asked Scout Master Hall, and the faces of the boys showed their eagerness to hear the explanation which they knew awaited them.
“The paper or canoe birch is the most valuable American kind. Cabinet makers sometimes use the wood, but it quickly decays when exposed to climatic changes. It sounds strange, but the bark is most esteemed because of its durable nature. Many times I have come upon a fallen birch which appeared to be perfectly sound, but on examination, I found the wood entirely rotted away, with the bark as firm and perfect as when the tree stood erect and was growing. You can easily see why it is so valuable for canoes. Would you like me to tell you how we make a birch canoe?”