"Water in Wyoming is like whiskey, you have to take it where you can get it and not be particular."
It was a temptation, and the cost at three dollars a foot was not excessive. Wallie pondered it and said finally:
"You will agree in writing to dig without remuneration until you get water if you do not strike it at sixty-eight feet?"
"An iron-clad contract will suit yours truly," Mr. Reed declared, emphatically. He added: "I'll bring two men to work the h'ist and empty the bucket. Of course you'd aim to board us?"
"Why, yes, I can," Wallie said a little uncertainly. He had not thought of that feature, but he realized it would be necessary.
He had figured that with strict economy he had provisions enough to last him well toward summer. Three men eating three meals daily might make some difference in his calculations, but nothing serious probably.
So the contract was drawn up and signed and Rufus departed, eminently satisfied, as was Wallie, who was so eager to see his well started that he could hardly wait until the following Monday.
In the interim he dreamed of his well of cold, pure water, and every time he made use of his "toe-holts" he told himself that that inconvenience would soon be eliminated. He meant to have a windmill as soon as he could afford it, for whatever else the country might lack there was no dearth of wind for motive power.
There was something permanent-looking about a well and he chuckled as he speculated as to what Canby would say when he heard of it, and he wished with all his heart that he might be around when Helene Spenceley learned that he was sinking a well on his place for household and stock purposes.
He had taken advantage of the opportunity which the gift of the cake presented to send her a note of thanks and appreciation. In reply he had received an invitation which had stung him worse than if she had written that she never wanted to see him cross her threshold.