give her a noon-mark on her kitchen
floor."

"How's this?--promised her?--I don't understand that!" growled Peakslow.

"Yes, pa!" said Mrs. Peakslow, with a frightened look. "I seen him to
Mis' Betterson's. He'd made a noon-mark for Mis' Wiggett, and Mis'
Betterson's sister asked me if I wouldn't like one, as he was comin' to
make them one some day."

Off went Peakslow's hat, and into his bushy hair went his fingers again,
while he stammered out,--

"But he can't make no noon-mark this arternoon,--we're all in a mess an'
litter, so!"

"Just as well now as any time," said Jack. "The doorway is clear. I
sha'n't interfere with anybody."

"What'll be to pay?" Peakslow asked.

"O, I don't charge anything for a little job like this,--to one of Mr.
Betterson's neighbors."

"That's jes' so; he didn't charge me nary red," said Mr. Wiggett. "An'
he's done the job for me now tew times,--fust time, the tornado come and
put the noon-mark out o' j'int, 'fore ever a noon come round."

Jack adjusted his compass, while the house-raisers looked on, to see how
the thing was done, Peakslow appearing as much interested as anybody.

Jack got Link to make the first marks for him on the floor, and laughed,
as he looked through the sights of the compass, to hear Mr. Wiggett
describe the finding of his section corner,--"runnin' a line plumb to
the old stake, out on the open perairie,"--and praise the boy-surveyor's
skill.

The mark was made with quickness and precision; friends and strangers
crowded around Jack with kind words and questions; and he was surprised
to find himself all at once a person of importance.

Peakslow puffed hard at his pipe. His face was troubled; and two or
three times he pulled the pipe out of his mouth, thrust his knuckles
under his hat, and took a step toward the young surveyor. He also
cleared his throat. He evidently had a word to say. But the word would
not come.

When at last he let Jack go off without offering him even a syllable of
thanks, the bystanders smiled, and somebody might have been heard to
mutter, "Peakslow all over! Just like his hoggishness!"

Jack smiled too as he went, for he had shrewdly observed his enemy, and
he knew it was not "hoggishness" which kept Peakslow's lips closed, but
a feeling which few suspected in that grasping, hard, and
violent-tempered man.

Peakslow was abashed!

CHAPTER XLI.

CONCLUSION.

The house made once more inhabitable, Peakslow's family