The Young Surveyor Part 29

"What property or premises, good neighbor? The horse is this young man's; and n.o.body has set foot on your land."

"That dog was on my land."

"And so was the horse," put in Jack.

"Take him off, pa! he's smotherin' on me!" shouted Zeph.

"Your boy is abusin' mine. I'll take care o' _him_!" And Peakslow set a foot over the two lower rails left in the gap.

"You'd better stay where you are,--accept a friend's disinterested advice," remarked Betterson. "If your boy had been on the right side of the fence, minding his own business,--you will bear with me if I am quite plain in my speech,--my boy would have had no occasion to soil his hands with him."

Peakslow appeared quite cowed by this unexpected show of determination in his easy-going neighbor. He stood astride the rails, just where Betterson had arrested his advance, and contented himself with urging Dud to the rescue of his brother.

"Why do ye stan' there and see Zeph treated that way? Why don't ye pitch in?"

"That's a game two can play at," said Jack. "Hands off, Dud, my boy."

And he stood by to see fair play.

"My boy had a right on that land; it's by good rights mine to-day!"

exclaimed Peakslow.

"We won't discuss that question; it has been settled once, neighbor,"

replied Betterson. "Rufus, I think you've done enough for that boy; his face is blacker than I ever saw it, which is saying a good deal. Let him go. Mr. Peakslow,"--with a bow of gracious condescension over the frayed stock,--"you are welcome to as much of this disputed territory as you can shake out of that youngster's clothes,--not any more."

"That seems to be a good deal," said Jack, laughing to see Zeph scramble up, gasping, blubbering, flirting soil from his clothes and hair, and clawing it desperately from his besmeared face.

"That's for daring me to fight you," said Rufe, as he let him go. "I'll pay you some other time for what you did to Cecie"; while Zeph went off howling.

"No more, Rufus," said Betterson. "Come and put up this fence."

"I'll do that," said Jack. "I'm bound to leave it as I found it; if Mr.

Peakslow will please step either forward or back."

Peakslow concluded to step back; and Jack and Rufe laid up the corner, rail by rail.

"Don't you think you've played me a perty shabby trick?" said Peakslow, glaring at Jack.

"You are hardly the man to speak with a very good grace of _anybody's_ shabby tricks," Jack replied, putting up the top rail before the hooked nose.

"I didn't think it of you!" And Peakslow cast longing eyes after the horse.

"You must have forgotten what you thought," said Jack. "You didn't dare turn the horse out till Zeph told you I'd gone home; and it seems you kept pretty close watch of him then."

Peakslow choked back his wrath, and muttered,--

"Ye might 'a' gi'n me suthin for my trouble."

"So I would, willingly, if you had acted decently."

"Gi' me suthin now, and settle it."

"I consider it already settled,--like your land-claim dispute," said Jack. "But no matter; how much do you want? Don't bid too high, you know."

"Gi' me a dollar, anyhow!"

Jack laughed.

"If I should give you enough to pay for the charge in your gun, wouldn't that satisfy you? Though, as you didn't fire it at me, I don't quite see that I ought to defray the expense of it. Good day, Mr. Peakslow."

Jack went to find the chicken that had been shot; and Peakslow vented his rage upon his neighbor across the fence.

"What a pattern of a man you be! stuck-up, struttin',--a turkey-gobbler kind of man, I call ye. Think I'm afraid o' yer gun?"

"I have no answer to make to remarks of that nature," said Lord Betterson, retiring from the fence.

"Hain't, hey?" Peakslow roared after him. "Feel above a common man like me, do ye? Guess I pay _my_ debts. If I set out to build, guess I look out and not bu'st up 'fore I get my paintin' and plasterin' done.

Nothin' to say to me, hey?"

Betterson coolly resumed his slow and stately march across the buckwheat, looking for prairie chickens.

"You puffed-up, pompous, would-be 'ristocrat!" said Peakslow, more and more furious, "where'd you be if your relations didn't furnish ye money?

Poorer 'n ye be now, I guess. What if I should tell ye what yer neighbors say of ye? Guess ye wouldn't carry yer head so plaguy high!"

Two chickens rose from before Betterson's feet, and flew to right and left. With perfect coolness and precision of aim he fired and brought down one, then turned and dropped the other, with scarce an interval of three seconds between the reports.

"This is a very pretty piece of yours," he observed smilingly, with a stately wave of the hand toward Jack.

"I never saw anything so handsomely done!" exclaimed Jack, bringing the chicken previously shot.

At the same time he could not help glancing with some apprehension at Peakslow, not knowing what that excitable neighbor might do, now that Betterson's two barrels were empty.

"I think I will stay and have one or two more shots," said Betterson. "A very pretty piece indeed!"

The muttering thunder of Peakslow's wrath died away in the distance, as he retired with his forces. Rufe picked up the last two prairie chickens and followed Jack, who ran to overtake the dog and horse.

Lion still held the bridle-rein, letting Snowfoot nip the gra.s.s that grew along the borders of the corn, but keeping him from the corn itself. Jack patted and praised the dog, and stroked and caressed the horse, looking him all over to see if he had received any fresh injury.

Then Rufe joined him; and presently Wad came bounding down the slope from the barn, laughing, carrying Jack's coat; and Link appeared, running and limping, having hurt his ankle in jumping down from the cow-shed. Behind came Chokie, trudging on his short legs, and tumbling and sprawling at every few steps.

The boys were jubilant over the victory, and Jack was the object of loud congratulations; while Lion and Snowfoot formed the centre of the little group.

"Much obliged to you, Wad," said Jack, as they re-exchanged coats and hats. "Thanks to you, I've got my horse again. Thanks to all of you.

Boys, I was perfectly astonished at your father's pluck!" And he could not help thinking what a really n.o.ble specimen of a man Betterson might have made, if he had not been standing on his dignity and waiting for legacies all his life.

"Not many folks know what sort of a man father is," replied Rufe.

"Peakslow would have found out, if he had drawn a bead on you. How quick he stopped, and changed countenance! He can govern his temper when he finds he must; and he can cringe and crawl when he sees it's for his interest. Think of his asking you at last,--after you had got your horse in spite of him, and at the risk of your life,--think of his begging you to give him a dollar!"

Jack said, "Look at that galled spot on Snowfoot's neck! Peakslow has got all he could out of him the past week,--kept him low and worked him hard in a cruel collar. Never mind, old Snowfoot! better times have come now, for both of us. Here, Link, you are lame; want a ride?"