agdon. My friends call me Jack."

"And it ain't yer name?"

"O, yes, it is, and yet it isn't! I was brought up to it. My friends
like it, and so I keep it."[1]

[Footnote 1: See "FAST FRIENDS"; also the previous volumes of this
series,--"JACK HAZARD AND HIS FORTUNES," "A CHANCE FOR HIMSELF," and
"DOING HIS BEST," in which is given a full account of the young
surveyor's early life and adventures.]

"Wal, Jack,--if you'll rank me with your friends, and le' me call ye
so," said the old man, with a cordial grip of his great, flat hand,--"I
s'pose we part yer, and say good by. I'll shoulder my tools, and take a
cow-path through the woods; you'll find a better road than the one we
come by, furder north. Jest keep along the edge of the perairie. I
sha'n't forgit this job."

"Nor I," said the young surveyor, with a curious smile.

It was the first work of the kind he had undertaken on his own account,
and without assistance; for which reason he felt not a little proud of
it. But he did not tell the old man so.

After parting company with him, he drove in the shade of the woods,
along a track so little travelled that the marks of wheels looked like
dark ruled lines in the half-trodden grass.

The pleasant summer afternoon was drawing to a close. The peculiar wild
scent of the prairie, which seems to increase as the cool evening comes
on, filled all the air. The shadows of the forest were stretching in a
vast, uneven belt over summit and hollow; while far away beyond, in
seemingly limitless expanse, swept the golden-green undulations of the
sunlit hills.

Jack--for I trust we shall also be entitled to call him so--kept his eye
out for game, as he drove leisurely along; stopped once or twice for a
rabbit on the edge of the woods; and, finally, pulled up sharply, as a
prairie-hen shot whirring out, almost from under his wheels.

He sprang to his feet and faced about, raising his gun; but before he
could take aim, the bird, at the end of a short, straight flight,
dropped into the prairie-grass a few rods away.

Jack followed on foot, holding his piece ready to fire. Knowing the shy
habits of the bird, he trampled the grass about the spot where she had
alighted, hoping to scare her up. He also sent his dog coursing about;
but Lion, though an intelligent animal, had no scent for birds.

Suddenly, from the very ground between the hunter's feet, with a
startling rush and thunder of wings, the hen rose. Up went gun to
shou