Read this excerpt from "mending wall," by robert frost: something there is that doesn't love a wall, that sends the frozen-ground-swell under it, and spills the upper boulders in the sun, and makes gaps even two can pass abreast. the work of hunters is another thing: i have come after them and made repair where they have left not one stone on a stone, but they would have the rabbit out of hiding, to the yelping dogs. what is the speaker of this poem doing? hunting inspecting a stone wall building a fence arguing with his neighbor