My eyes had been fastened on her face, and now she evidently remembered and checked herself purposely, for I saw her teeth clamp her lip for an instant. Then she went on, softer and more slowly, never looking up.
"When—I—came—las'—time—it's—here!"
With the last word she jabbed her stick down, and straightened up triumphantly.
I pressed forward to her side, and peered into the bush. The end of her stick rested upon a piece of wood. With a word to Lessie to wait a moment I hurried back to the lodge and procured a scythe from the store of miscellaneous things which had accompanied me when I came out to make friends with the wilderness. Directly I had uncovered the well's top, a surface of oaken planks four feet square. In the center of this lay a large, smooth stone, covering the hole which gave access to the water below.
"By Jove! Girl, how can I thank you?" I cried, elated at the discovery. "I've been drinking sulphur water and bathing with tadpoles, never dreaming this was here!"
"It'll be a big savin'," she agreed. "Tot'n' water's pow'ful hard work."
She turned to go. I dropped my scythe and said:
"You must let me go part of the way. I know you're not afraid, but won't you? I'd feel better."
She clasped her hands, wrung them once, and took two or three forward steps silently. Something was wrong with Lessie, but nothing like a true solution entered my thick masculine head until she stopped, halfway turned, and flung from tight lips—
"It's 'bout Buck!"