We did not wait for the kettle to boil, but concluded to do without tea or coffee, for this meal, and content ourselves with pure water. For some reason or other, however, the creek water did not seem to be very pure, and we did not like it a bit.
“After lunch,” said I, “we will go and look for a spring; that will be a good way of exploring the country.”
“If we can't find one,” said Euphemia, “we shall have to go to the house for water, for I can never drink that stuff.”
Soon after lunch we started out. We searched high and low, near and far, for a spring, but could not find one.
At length, by merest accident, we found ourselves in the vicinity of old John's little house. I knew he had a good well, and so we went in to get a drink, for our ham and biscuits had made us very thirsty.
We told old John, who was digging potatoes, and was also very much surprised to see us so soon, about our unexpected trouble in finding a spring.
“No,” said he, very slowly, “there is no spring very near to you. Didn't you tell your gal to bring you water?”
“No,” I replied; “we don't want her coming down to the camp. She is to attend to the house.”
“Oh, very well,” said John; “I will bring you water, morning and night,—good, fresh water,—from my well, for,—well, for ten cents a day.”
“That will be nice,” said Euphemia, “and cheap, too. And then it will be well to have John come every day; he can carry our letters.”
“I don't expect to write any letters.”
“Neither do I,” said Euphemia; “but it will be pleasant to have some communication with the outer world.”
So we engaged old John to bring us water twice a day. I was a little disappointed at this, for I thought that camping on the edge of a stream settled the matter of water. But we have many things to learn in this world.
Early in the afternoon I went out to catch some fish for supper. We agreed to dispense with dinner, and have breakfast,
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