It looked like an easy victim.

Aleck's was an ugly-looking little elm.
Ranald thought he would try his first pull without the use of the ax.
Quickly he backed up his team to the stump, passed the chain round a root on the far side, drew the big hook far up the chain, hitched it so as to give the shortest possible draught, threw the chain over the top of the stump to give it purchase, picked up his lines, and called to his team.

With a rush the blacks went at it.

The chain slipped up on the root, tightened, bit into the wood, and then the blacks flung back.
Ranald swung them round the point and tried them again, but still the stump refused to budge.
All this time he could hear Aleck chopping furiously at his elm-roots, and he knew that unless he had his stump out before his rival had his chain hitched for the pull the victory was lost.
For a moment or two he hesitated, looking round for the ax.
"Try them again, Ranald," cried Farquhar.

"Haw them a bit." Once more Ranald picked up the lines, swung his horses round to the left, held them steady a moment or two, and then with a yell sent them at their pull.