He declined the invitation to enter; but, to rest his limbs, leaped down from the buggy. Thereupon the dog rose from his seat on the wagon-bottom, jumped down after him, and shook himself.
"All creation!" said the woman, "what a pup that ar is! Yer, you young uns! Put back into the house, and hide under the bed, or he'll eat ye up like ye was so much cl'ar soap-grease!"
At that moment the dog stretched his great mouth open, with a formidable yawn. Panic seized the "young uns," and they scampered; their bare legs and exceedingly scanty attire (only three shirts and a half to four little barbarians) seeming to offer the dog unusual facilities, had he chosen to regard them as soap-grease and to regale himself on that sort of diet. But he was too well-bred and good-natured an animal to think of snapping up a little Wiggett or two for his luncheon; and the fugitives, having first run under the bed and looked out, ventured back to the door, and peeped with scared faces from behind their mother's gown.
To hide his laughter, the young fellow stood patting and stroking his horse's neck until Sal returned with her "pap."
"Mr. Wiggett?" inquired the youth, seeing a tall, spare, rough old man approach.
"That's my name, stranger. What can I dew for ye to-day?"
"I've come to see what I can do for you, Mr. Wiggett. I believe you want your section corner looked up."
"That I dew, stranger. But I 'lowed 't would take a land-surveyor for that."
"I am a land-surveyor," said the young fellow, with a modest smile.
"A land-surveyor? Why, you're noth'n' but a boy!" And the tall old man, bending a little, and knitting his gray eyebrows, looked down upon his visitor with a sort of amused curiosity.