SURVEYING ALONG THE SHENANDOAH
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.