With Washington in the west;

On the whole Dave found his employer rather companionable, although at times reserved and thoughtful. He soon learned that Washington was a hard worker and that the more difficult the problem to be solved the more the surveyor was interested. Once they were surveying in the midst of a forest, with rough rocks on every side, and the lad felt almost certain that the work must come to a standstill. But Washington kept on as if nothing out of the usual confronted him, and in the end the difficulty appeared to straighten itself out with scarcely an effort.

Dave soon learned how to carry the chains and call out the measurements and how to set the stakes and poles, and this was almost the extent of what he had to do. The weather remained fair, although it was gradually growing colder and he was often glad enough, early in the morning or late in the evening, to don the greatcoat Washington had loaned him.

But if the surveyor was engrossed in his work, he always kept his eyes open and his wits about him, as Dave learned before he had been out a week.

They were surveying a grant of land running along a brook flowing into the Shenandoah, and in making some measurements and setting stakes the lad was called upon to remove his boots and stockings and wade into a swamp where the water was almost up to his knees. While Dave was thus engaged Washington rested on a rock, doing an example in trigonometry in a field-book he carried.

Presently, while Dave was pounding away at one of the stakes, the water close to him was disturbed and of a sudden a large snapping turtle appeared. It swam directly toward Dave, as if contemplating an attack on the lad’s ankles or feet.

Dave had had a bitter experience with a small snapping turtle two summers before and he had no desire to be attacked by this large fellow, who looked both powerful and ugly.

“Go away!” he cried, loudly, and hit the water with one of his poles. “Go away!”

Instead of going away, the snapping turtle came closer, until it was within ten feet of the boy. Dave started to run, but was hampered by the things he carried and made but slow progress.

At Dave’s first cry of alarm, Washington sprang to his feet and looked in that direction. Had he had his rifle he would undoubtedly have shot the snapping turtle dead, but the firearm was some distance away with the rest of the traps, and to run for it would have taken too much time.

In his school days Washington had been a great lad to throw stones and balls, and in contests of accuracy he had generally come off the victor. Almost instinctively he now looked around for a stone, and finding one to his taste, he snatched it up, took aim, and hurled it forthwith with all his strength.

His old-time cunning had not deserted him and the sharp stone hit the snapping turtle fairly and squarely on the head, with such force that the creature was almost if not quite killed. It disappeared from view, leaving only a ripple of water to mark its departure.

“Come ashore, quick!” called the surveyor to Dave, but that advice was not necessary for, as said before, the youth was already running as rapidly as his burden permitted. In the meantime Washington picked up another stone, and when the turtle’s body reappeared hurled it forth with as good aim as before. Then the turtle disappeared a second time, and that was the last they saw of it until the next day, when they found the dead body floating in the rushes at the edge of the swamp.

“I—I thought he had me sure!” gasped Dave, when he came out of the swamp and threw down his traps. “Oh, but wasn’t he a big one!”

“That he was,” answered Washington, and took up a third stone. “I don’t see anything more of him,” he added, after a pause.

“Nor I. That first throw paralyzed him I think and the second finished him. I am thankful to you for coming to my aid,” went on Dave, warmly.

“I have only balanced our account,” answered the surveyor, with a smile. “You helped me against the snakes, now I have aided you against this turtle.”

“It’s too bad that turtle should turn up,” went on Dave, after he was settled down. “I don’t much like to think of going back into that swamp. There may be more of them there.”

“If you do go back put on your boots and take your gun, David. But, wait awhile, perhaps I can arrange it to survey around the swamp. It may take longer, but I do not wish to expose you to unnecessary peril. If that snapper had taken off one of your toes you would have to walk lame for the rest of your life.”

Washington told Dave to leave the stakes in the swamp as they were, and then ordered measurements taken around the north shore of the swamp. Dave went to work briskly, and by night the pair had worked their way to another point and had laid out a new triangle, so that the lad would have to go into the swamp only a short distance. This he did the next day, with his boots on, and it was then that the dead snapping turtle was discovered and hauled ashore.

The days followed each other in rapid succession, and after the work around the swamp was completed, Washington said they must now move up into the mountain gap, before the winter snows came to stop all surveying. They went on foot, for horses in that wild section would have been worse than useless. Each carried a heavy load, and in addition the surveyor had two negroes from Denton’s “tote” along supplies. The negroes remained with them for two days, assisting them to put up a mountain shelter of logs and brush, and then left them.

Work for one or two days was not difficult, but on the third day they moved out of the gap up the side of one of the mountains and along a narrow cliff. Here was a grant of land hardly of any value excepting for the timber on it, but it belonged to an English nobleman who was anxious to have it surveyed and who had offered Washington a neat sum to do the work.

“This is one of the difficult undertakings,” said Washington. “To lay out a straight line is next to impossible, but we can do our best, and there is no hurry, so long as the good weather lasts.”

The scenery, even for this time of year, was magnificent, and Dave often paused to survey the surroundings. Here were acres upon acres of cedar and hemlock as green as ever, and, in between, other trees, either bare or covered with leaves turned to red and yellow. The patches of wood were separated by the black rock, covered in many spots by the vari-colored mosses, and giving birth to innumerable springs of crystal water which flashed gaily in the sunshine.

Wild animals were also in evidence, and more than once a rabbit, squirrel or fox crossed their path, and once they saw a herd of deer at a distance and also a black bear. The bear interested Dave more than anything and he wondered if they would ever meet face to face.

“If we do, I hope I have my gun handy,” he said to Washington.

“You’ll do better to leave the bear alone if he doesn’t harm you,” was the surveyor’s advice. “For if your shot fails he will surely do his best to hug you to death.”

The work proceeded along the cliff and then across a long hollow and up the mountain again. One day it rained and this made climbing on the day following difficult.

“You must be careful,” cautioned Washington, on starting out. “A false step may cost you dear.”

They were soon hard at work, and Dave was finding his way around a particularly steep bit of rocky ground when he heard a shout from his employer. He could not make out what was said and while he listened the shout was repeated.

Fearing that something had gone wrong, he crawled back the way he had come and ran through the underbrush to where he had left Washington. But the surveyor was nowhere in sight.

“Where are you?” he called. “What is the matter?”

“This way!” was the answer, delivered in a panting tone of voice. “This way!”

Guided by the tones, Dave turned and ran in a new direction. Soon he reached a series of rocks sloping down toward a deep ravine.

“Where are you?” he went on, still unable to see anything of Washington.

“Here I am—down the rocks!” was the low answer, and now, looking down, Dave saw Washington far below, at the very edge of the ravine. He was clinging fast to a small cedar, and the tree was so bent it looked as if it might break at any instant and let him down into the abyss below.

“Oh! How did you get there?” burst out the boy. “What can I do for you?”

“Get a rope—or one of the chains,” answered Washington. “Be quick, this tree won’t hold much longer,” and now he clutched at the rocks with one hand while holding to the tree with the other.

No rope was at hand, and the nearest chain was several rods off, but fear lent speed to Dave’s flying feet and soon he had the chain in his hand, and then he ran back to the rocks as fast as he had come. By this time the cedar tree was gradually loosening from the edge of the abyss below and while Washington had his feet around it, he now clung to two tiny crevices in the rocks above his head.

“Here is the chain, catch hold!” cried Dave, and paid it out to its full length, while bracing himself to hold fast should Washington do as suggested. Alas! the chain was several feet too short and the surveyor could not reach it. Then with a crash the cedar tree snapped from its rooting and landed with another crash at the bottom of the abyss, and Washington was left at the edge of the rocks without other support than the crevices to which he clung with might and main.