Dad and Ma exchanged looks across the table. They must have thought that it was important enough for Dad to spare a few of his scarce words.
"What do you want it for?"
I held up a finger for him to hold. I retrieved a small stone hatchet head, mimed the action of pushing against the edge, then ran my finger over the head as if testing the edge. Dad seemed curious enough to go and retrieve the nail from the mantle place.
I knelt near the hearth for light near Dad. I turned my hand palm downward and applied pressure upward. Pieces of stone flicked off. After several flakes, I flipped over the stone. The iron nail was far more precise and had made a better edge than striking flint against flint.
Dad held out his hand. I put the stone in his hand. Primus came over as well.
"What is that?" Primus asked.
"I reckon that it's a hatchet head."
Primus took it and flipped it around.
"I suppose that it is one."
He handed it back to me. I held up the nail.
"Keep it, son," Dad said.
I smiled and nodded my head to him. My other brothers took turns glancing at the stone before we went to bed.
The next day, I split a branch with the hatchet head and bound the nail tightly at the end of a carved stick with some cordage. The tool was called an Ishi stick and would give me better control over the flaking of the stone.
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