It was a small farm-house, in the woods.

There were a great many large logs, lying each side of the road near it, ready to be drawn to the mill.
Jonas went up towards the door, which was in the end of the house.

As he drew near to it, he saw a boy's head behind an enormous pile of wood.

He went around it, and found that the boy was about as big as Jonas himself.

He was rolling down a large stick of wood, and had an axe in his hand, as if he was going to chop it.
"Does Mr.Woodman live here ?" said Jonas.
"Yes," said the boy; "but he isn't at home." "Where is he ?" said Jonas.
"He is out in the lot, falling trees," said the boy.
"How far is it from here ?" asked Jonas.
"O, about a good half mile." "Which way ?" said Jonas.
"Out yonder," said the boy; and he pointed back of the house, where a rough sled-road led into the woods.