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                           THE YOUNG SURVEYOR;

                                   OR,

                          JACK ON THE PRAIRIES.

                           BY J. T. TROWBRIDGE

              AUTHOR OF "JACK HAZARD AND HIS FORTUNES," ETC.

                          _WITH ILLUSTRATIONS._


BOSTON:
JAMES R. OSGOOD AND COMPANY,
LATE TICKNOR & FIELDS, AND FIELDS, OSGOOD, & CO.
1875.

Copyright, 1875.
BY JAMES R. OSGOOD & CO.

UNIVERSITY PRESS: WELCH, BIGELOW, & CO.,
CAMBRIDGE.




[Illustration: HOW THE BOYS WENT TO THE RIVER FOR WATER.]




CONTENTS.


       I. "NOTHING BUT A BOY"

      II. OLD WIGGETT'S SECTION CORNER

     III. THE HOMEWARD TRACK

      IV. A DEER HUNT, AND HOW IT ENDED

       V. THE BOY WITH ONE SUSPENDER

      VI. "LORD BETTERSON'S"

     VII. JACK AT THE "CASTLE"

    VIII. HOW VINNIE MADE A JOURNEY

      IX. VINNIE'S ADVENTURE

       X. JACK AND VINNIE IN CHICAGO

      XI. JACK'S NEW HOME

     XII. VINNIE'S FUTURE HOME

    XIII. WHY JACK DID NOT FIRE AT THE PRAIRIE CHICKEN

     XIV. SNOWFOOT'S NEW OWNER

      XV. GOING FOR A WITNESS

     XVI. PEAKSLOW GETS A QUIRK IN HIS HEAD

    XVII. VINNIE MAKES A BEGINNING

   XVIII. VINNIE'S NEW BROOM

     XIX. LINK'S WOOD-PILE

      XX. MORE WATER THAN THEY WANTED

     XXI. PEAKSLOW SHOWS HIS HAND

    XXII. THE WOODLAND SPRING

   XXIII. JACK'S "BIT OF ENGINEERING"

    XXIV. PREPARING FOR THE ATTACK

     XXV. THE BATTLE OF THE BOUNDARY FENCE

    XXVI. VICTORY

   XXVII. VINNIE IN THE LION'S DEN

  XXVIII. AN "EXTRAORDINARY" GIRL

    XXIX. ANOTHER HUNT, AND HOW IT ENDED

     XXX. JACK'S PRISONER

    XXXI. RADCLIFF

   XXXII. AN IMPORTANT EVENT

  XXXIII. MRS. WIGGETT'S "NOON-MARK"

   XXXIV. THE STRANGE CLOUD

    XXXV. PEAKSLOW IN A TIGHT PLACE.--CECIE

   XXXVI. "ON THE WAR TRAIL"

  XXXVII. THE MYSTERY OF A PAIR OF BREECHES

 XXXVIII. THE MORNING AFTER

   XXXIX. FOLLOWING UP THE MYSTERY

      XL. PEAKSLOW'S HOUSE-RAISING

     XLI. CONCLUSION




LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.


SETTING THE STAKES

JACK AND THE STRANGE YOUTH

UP-HILL WORK

"LORD BETTERSON"

TOO OBLIGING BY HALF

LINK DOESN'T CARE TO BE KISSED

SHOT ON THE WING

THE AMIABLE MR. PEAKSLOW

VINNIE'S STRATAGEM

LINK'S WOOD-PILE

HOW THE BOYS WENT TO THE RIVER FOR WATER

TESTING THE LEVEL

OLD WIGGETT

"STOP, OR I'LL SHOOT!"

RETURNING IN TRIUMPH

THE END OF THE CHASE

JACK AND HIS JOLLY PRISONER

THE TORNADO COMING

PEAKSLOW REAPPEARS

FOLLOWING THE WAR TRAIL UNDER DIFFICULTIES

THE WATER QUESTION SETTLED




THE YOUNG SURVEYOR.




CHAPTER I.

"NOTHING BUT A BOY."


[Illustration]

A young fellow in a light buggy, with a big black dog sitting composedly
beside him, enjoying the ride, drove up, one summer afternoon, to the
door of a log-house, in one of the early settlements of Northern
Illinois.

A woman with lank features, in a soiled gown trailing its rags about her
bare feet, came and stood in the doorway and stared at him.

"Does Mr. Wiggett live here?" he inquired.

"Wal, I reckon," said the woman, "'f he ain't dead or skedaddled of a
suddent."

"Is he at home?"

"Wal, I reckon."

"Can I see him?"

"I dunno noth'n' to hender. Yer, Sal! run up in the burnt lot and fetch
your pap. Tell him a stranger. You've druv a good piece," the woman
added, glancing at the buggy-wheels and the horse's white feet, stained
with black prairie soil.

"I've driven over from North Mills," replied the young fellow, regarding
her pleasantly, with bright, honest features, from under the shade of
his hat-brim.

"I 'lowed as much. Alight and come into the house. Old man'll be yer in
a minute."

He declined the invitation to enter; but, to rest his limbs, leaped down
from the buggy. Thereupon the dog rose from his seat on the
wagon-bottom, jumped down after him, and shook himself.

"All creation!" said the woman, "what a pup that ar is! Yer, you young
uns! Put back into the house, and hide under the bed, or he'll eat ye up
like ye was so much cl'ar soap-grease!"

At that moment the dog stretched his great mouth open, with a formidable
yawn. Panic seized the "young uns," and they scampered; their bare legs
and exceedingly scanty attire (only three shirts and a half to four
little barbarians) seeming to offer the dog unusual facilities, had he
chosen to regard them as soap-grease and to regale himself on that sort
of diet. But he was too well-bred and good-natured an animal to think of
snapping up a little Wiggett or two for his luncheon; and the fugitives,
having first run under the bed and looked out, ventured back to the
door, and peeped with scared faces from behind their mother's gown.

To hide his laughter, the young fellow stood patting and stroking his
horse's neck until Sal returned with her "pap."

"Mr. Wiggett?" inquired the youth, seeing a tall, spare, rough old man
approach.

"That's my name, stranger. What can I dew for ye to-day?"

"I've come to see what I can do for _you_, Mr. Wiggett. I believe you
want your section corner looked up."

"That I dew, stranger. But I 'lowed 't would take a land-surveyor for
that."

"I am a land-surveyor," said the young fellow, with a modest smile.

"A land-surveyor? Why, you're noth'n' but a boy!" And the tall old man,
bending a little, and knitting his gray eyebrows, looked down upon his
visitor with a sort of amused curiosity.

"That's so," replied the "boy," with a laugh and a blush. "But I think I
can find your corner, if the bearings are all right."

"Whur's your instruments?" asked the old man, leaning over the buggy.
"Them all? What's that gun to do with land-surveyin'?"

"Nothing; I brought that along, thinking I might get a shot at a rabbit
or a prairie hen. But we shall need an axe and a shovel."

"I 'lowed your boss would come himself, in place of sendin' a boy!"
muttered the old man, taking up the gun,--a light double-barrelled
fowling-piece,--sighting across it with an experienced eye, and laying
it down again. "Sal, bring the axe; it's stickin' in the log thar by the
wood-pile. Curi's thing, to lose my section corner, hey?"

"It's not a very uncommon thing," replied the young surveyor.

"Fact is," said the old man, "I never found it I bought of Seth
Parkins's widder arter Seth died, and banged if I've ever been able to
find the gov'ment stake."

"Maybe somebody pulled it up, or broke it off, to kill a rattlesnake
with," suggested the young surveyor.

"Like enough," said the old man. "Can't say 't I blame him; though he
might 'a' got a stick in the timber by walkin' a few rods. He couldn't
'a' been so bad off as one o' you surveyor chaps was when the gov'ment
survey went through. He was off on the Big Perairie, footin' it to his
camp, when he comes to a rattler curled up in the grass, and shakin' his
tarnal buzz-tail at him. He steps back, and casts about him for some
sort of we'pon; he hadn't a thing in his fist but a roll of paper, and
if ever a chap hankered arter a stick or a stun, they say he did. But it
was all jest perairie grass; nary rock nor a piece of timber within
three mile. Snake seemed to 'preciate his advantage, and flattened his
head and whirred his rattle sassier 'n ever. Surveyor chap couldn't
stan' that. So what does he dew, like a blamed fool, but jest off with
his boot and hurl it, 'lowin' he could kill a rattler that way? He
missed shot. Then, to git his boot, he had to pull off t' other, and
tackle the snake with that. Lost that tew. Then he was in a
perdickerment; snake got both boots; curled up on tew 'em, ready to
strike, and seemin' to say, 'If you've any more boots to spar', bring
'em on.' Surveyor chap hadn't no more boots, to his sorrow; and, arter
layin' siege to the critter till sundown, hopin' he'd depart in peace
and leave him his property, he guv it up as a bad job, and footed it to
the camp in his stockin's, fancyin' he was treadin' among rattlers all
the way."

The story was finished by the time the axe was brought; the old man
picked up a rusty shovel lying by the house, and, getting into the buggy
with his tools, he pointed out to his young companion a rough road
leading through the timber.

This was a broad belt of woodland, skirting the eastern side of a wide,
fertile river-bottom, and giving to the settlement the popular name of
"Long Woods."

On the other side of the timber lay the high prairie region, covered
with coarse wild grass, and spotted with flowers, without tree or shrub
visible until another line of timber, miles away, marked the vicinity of
another stream.

The young surveyor and the old man, in the jolting buggy, followed by
the dog, left the log-house and the valley behind them; traversed the
woods, through flickering sun and shade; and drove southward along the
edge of the rolling prairie, until the old man said they had better stop
and hitch.

"I don't hitch my horse," said the young surveyor. "The dog looks out
for him. Here, old fellow, watch!"

"The section corner, I ca'c'late," said the old man, shouldering his
axe, "is off on the perairie thar, some'er's. Come, and I'll show ye the
trees."

"Is that big oak with the broken limb one of them?"

"Wal, now, how did ye come to guess that?--one tree out of a hundred ye
might 'a' picked."

"It is a prominent tree," replied the youth, "and, if I had been the
surveyor, I think I should have chosen it for one, to put my bearings
on."

"Boy, you're right! But it took me tew days to decide even that. The
underbrush has growed up around it, and the old scar has nigh about
healed over."

The old man led the way through the thickets, and, reaching a small
clear space at the foot of the great oak, pointed out the scar, where
the trunk had been blazed by the axemen of the government survey. On a
surface about six inches broad, hewed for the purpose, the distance and
direction of the tree from the corner stake had, no doubt, been duly
marked. But only a curiously shaped wound was left. The growth of the
wood was rapid in that rich region, and, although the cut had been made
but a few years before, a broad lip of smooth new bark had rolled up
about it from the sides, and so nearly closed over it that only a
narrow, perpendicular, dark slit remained.

"What do you make of that