THE WOODLAND SPRING.
Very pale, with the bridle dangling from his arm, and Lion walking dejectedly by his side (the sympathetic dog always knew when his master was in trouble), Jack returned to the "castle."
Lord Betterson, meeting him in the door-yard, touched his hat and bowed.
"Where—is—your—quadruped?" he asked, with a cool, deliberate politeness, which fell upon Jack's mood like drops of water on red-hot steel.
"That villain! he claims the reward for him! But I never'll pay it in the world!"
Betterson smiled and said, "Ah! Peakslow! Highly characteristic!"
"He threatened to shoot me!"
"Very likely. He has threatened to shoot me, on one or two occasions. I said, 'Shoot!'" (Jack wondered whether he said it with that condescending smile and gracious gesture.) "It isn't agreeable to have dealings with a person who talks of shooting his fellow-men; but I imagine there's no danger, if you keep cool."
"I couldn't keep cool," said Jack. "I got as mad as he was. I could have shot him."
"That, my friend," Lord Betterson replied, with a wave of the hand, "was an error,—quite natural, but still an error. You stay to dinner?"
"Thank you, I have promised myself that pleasure."
Jack was ashamed of having given way to his anger; and he determined from that moment, whatever happened, to keep calm.
As he threw his useless bridle down, and left Lion to guard it, he saw Wad starting off with a pail, and asked where he was going.
"For water," said Wad.
"More water? I should think you all had enough for one day!"
"Yes, for the outer man," drawled Wad. "Where's your horse?"
"I concluded to let Peakslow keep him a little longer. He seemed willing to; and I am not ready to ride home. May I go with you?"
"Glad to have ye," said Wad.
They walked a little way along the road toward Peakslow's house, then entered the woodland, descended into a little ravine, and, on the slope beyond, found a spring of running water in the shade of an oak grove.
Jack was not inclined to talk of Snowfoot, but he had a good deal to say about the spring.
"Why, this is charming! What a clear basin of water! Is it always running over?"
"Always, even in the driest season. We first noticed that little stream trickling down into the ravine; and that's about all there was to be seen, till Rufe and I hollowed out this basin."
"Why don't you come here with your wagon and tubs, instead of going to the river?"
"There's no good way to get in here with a wagon; and, besides, we can't dip up more than two or three pailfuls at a time,—then we must wait for the spring to fill."
"You could sink a barrel," said Jack, "and always have that full, to start upon. Now dip your pail, and let's see how long it takes for the basin to fill."
The experiment was tried, and Jack grew quite enthusiastic over the result.
"See! how fast the water comes in! I say, Wad, you've got something valuable here."
"Yes," said Wad. "I only wish the house had been built somewhere near. This is part of the land Peakslow pretended to claim. The swing, where Cecie got hurt, is in the grove, just up here."
The place was so cool and pleasant that Jack let Wad return alone with the water, and walked about the spring and the swing, and up into the woods beyond, calming his inward excitement, until dinner-time.
At table he gave a humorous account of his late interview with Peakslow.
"He was so very cordial in his request that I should leave Snowfoot, that I couldn't well refuse,—though I did decline to trouble him, till he brought out a double-barrelled argument,—stub twist, percussion lock,—which finally persuaded me. He is one of the most urgent men I ever saw," added Jack, mashing his potato.
Vinnie smiled, while the others laughed; but her eyes were full of anxiety, as they beamed on Jack.
"Isn't it possible," she said, "to meet such arguments with kindness? I didn't think there was a man so bad that he couldn't be influenced by reason and good-will."
"It might rain reasons on Peakslow, forty days and forty nights,—he would shed 'em, as a duck does water," Jack replied. "Isn't it so, Mr. Betterson?"
"I have certainly found him impervious," said my lord.
"I might have stopped to argue with him, and threaten him with the law and costs of court, and perhaps have settled the matter for five or ten dollars. But the truth is," Jack confessed, "I lost patience and temper. I am not going to have any more words with him. Now let's drop Peakslow, and speak of something more important. That spring over in your woods, Mr. Betterson,—I've been looking at it. Is it soft water?" (Jack lifted a glass and sipped it;) "as good for washing as it is for the table?"
"It is excellent water for any purpose," said Mr. Betterson. "There is only one fault in that spring,—it is too far off."
"We are going to move the house up there, so as to have it handy," said Link.
"That is one of my young friend's jokes," said Jack. "But, seriously, Mr. Betterson, instead of moving the house to the spring, why don't you bring the spring to the house?"
"How do you mean? It doesn't seem quite—ah—practicable, to move a spring that way."
"I don't mean the spring itself, of course, but the water. You might have that running, a constant stream, in your kitchen or back-room."
"I apprehend your drift," said Betterson, helping Jack to a piece of prairie chicken. "You mean, bring it in pipes."
"Thank you. Precisely."
"But I apprehend a difficulty; it is not easy to make water run up hill."
Jack smiled, and blushed a little, at Betterson's polite condescension in making this mild objection.
"Water running down hill may force itself up another hill, if confined in pipes, I think you will concede."
"Most assuredly. But it will not rise again higher than its source. And the spring is lower than we are,—lower than our kitchen sink."
"I don't quite see that," replied Jack, with the air of a candid inquirer. "I have been over the ground, and it didn't strike me so."
"It certainly looks to be several feet lower," said Betterson; and the boys agreed with him.
"We generally speak of going down to the spring," said Rufe. "We go down the road, then down the bank of the ravine, and then a little way up the other bank. I don't know how we can tell just how much lower it is. We can't see the spring from the house."
"If I had my instruments here, I could tell you which is lower, and how much lower, pretty soon. While I am waiting for Snowfoot, (I can't go home, you know, without Snowfoot!) I may, perhaps, do a bit of engineering, as it is."