The Young Surveyor

It is a story of a children named Jack. 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, "the ain't dead or skedaddled of a suddent". "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.