p
ic
icNext stop: Jim "Flintstone" Morris. The man was a master at making arrowheads. With just a deer antler and scrap of leather, he could put an edge on a piece of flint so fine it could slice a C-note into confetti. I didn't want to think of what it could do to something he didn't like.
He pulled out a jagged piece of flint. He rubbed a finger on the side of his nose, then smeared it on the surface of the rock. He stuck it under his magnifying glass. What do you see, Sherlock, I thought.
"Here's your answer," he said. I leaned in for a better look. The letter "B."
The Flintstone had made his point.