could see that, to get rid of me, whom he thought he had given the slip
forever. Finally he came to me one morning, just as a warm February wind
had begun to thaw the snow, and said, beaming as if he had found a gold
mine for me: "Jacob, I've got just what you want--a splendid farm
in Iowa."

And he laid on the table the deed to my farm in Vandemark Township, a
section of land in one solid block a mile square. "Of course," said he,
"I can't let you have all of it--'but let us say eighty acres, or even I
might clean up a quarter-section, here along the east side,"--and he
pointed to a plat of it pinned fast to the deed.

"The whole piece," said I, "is worth eight hundred dollars, and not a
cent more--if it's all good land. That ain't enough."

"All good land!" said he--and I could see he was surprised at the fact
that I knew Iowa land was selling at a dollar and a quarter an acre.
"Why, there ain't anything but good land there. You can put a plow in
one corner of that section, and plow every foot of it without taking the
share out of the ground."

"All or nothing," said I, "and more."

Next day he came back and said he would let me have the whole section;
but that it would break him. He wanted to be fair with me--more than
fair. People had set me against him, he said, looking at Jackway who
was-drinking at the bar; but nobody could say that he was a man who
would not deal fairly with an ignorant boy.

"I've got to have a team, a wagon, a cover for the wagon, and provisions