concluded to keep the money, and leave Jack word that he had it
for him.

CHAPTER XXXIII.

MRS. WIGGETT'S "NOON-MARK."

Jack returned home, unexpectedly, that night. He jumped for joy when
told of Mr. Betterson's call and the message he had left. The promise of
money due himself could not have pleased him so much as the prospect now
presented of justice being done to the truckman.

He felt some concern, it must be owned, lest the money should, after
all, be diverted from its course; he determined, therefore, to act
promptly in the matter, and go to Long Woods the next day.

He and Forrest were laying out town lots somewhere up the river; and he
was closely occupied all the next forenoon and a part of the afternoon
with his calculations and drawings.

At last he leaped up gayly, with that sense of satisfaction and relief
which comes from the consciousness of work well done.

He harnessed Snowfoot, put his compass into the buggy, thinking he would
give Mrs. Wiggett her noon-mark this time without fail, winked assent at
Lion, eager to accompany him, and drove off with a feeling of enjoyment,
to which the thought of some one he was going to meet gave a wonderful
zest.

As it was getting late in the day when he reached the settlement, he
stopped only a moment at the "castle," to speak with Vinnie, and leave
word that he would call and see Mr. Betterson on his way back; then
drove on to Mr. Wiggett's log-cabin.

His reception there was most cordial, especially when it was found that
he had come with his compass, prepared to make the noon-mark.

"House don't front no sort of a way," said the old man; "and I reckon
you'll have to give us a kin' of a slantin'diclar line from 'bout this
yer direction," indicating a wood-pile by the road.

The little Wiggetts meanwhile thronged the doorway, staring at Jack and
his strange machine, and their old acquaintance, the dog.

"Cl'ar the kitchen, you young uns!" the mother stormed after them,
cuffing right and left. "Noon-mark'll cut ye plumb in tew, 'f ye don't
scatter! It's comin' into this yer door, like it was a bullet from pap's
rifle!"

The grimy faces and bare legs "scattered"; while Mrs. Wiggett called to
Jack,--

"How long 'fore ye gwine to shute that ar thing off? 'Low I oughter
scoop up a little fust."

"Scoop up?" Jack repeated, not quite taking her meaning.

"Right smart o' dirt on the floor yer; it'll be in your way, I reckon."

"Not at all," sa