“That is so,” “I hadn’t thought of that;” “and we’ll all be hungry, too, for of course we shall not sleep”—these were the responses that came quickly in answer to Cal’s suggestion.
“We’ll manage the matter in this way,” said Cal, quite as if no one else had spoken. “When ’yon grey streaks that fret the clouds give indication of the dawn,’ Mr. Dunbar will go fishing. As soon as it grows light enough for you to walk through the woods without breaking more than two or three necks apiece, the rest of you can take that big piece of tarpaulin, go out to Tom’s potato patch, and bring back a large supply of sweet potatoes. After breakfast one or two of us can go for some game, while the rest repair damages here. It will take two or three days to do that.”
As he spoke he looked about him as if to estimate the extent of the harm done.
“Hello!” he cried out a moment later. “That’s bad, very bad.”
“What is it, Cal?”
“Why, our well has completely disappeared—filled up to the level by the surrounding earth, which seems to have lost its head and in that way got itself ‘into a hole,’ just as people do when they forget discretion. That means that we’ve got to dig out the well to-day, and in the meantime drink that stuff from the spring down under the bluff. Our day’s work is cut out for us, sure enough.”
Tom had disappeared in the darkness while Cal was speaking, and as Cal continued to speak for a considerable time afterwards, marking out what Dick called a “programme of convenience,” he had not finished when Tom returned and in breathless excitement announced that the spring under the bluff was no more.
“The whole of that part of the bluff has slumped down to the beach,” he said, “and even the big catalpa tree is uprooted and overturned. Of course the spring is completely filled up, and we’ll all be half famished for water before we get the well dug out again.”
“Don’t indulge in too hopeless a grief over the loss of the spring, Tom,” said Cal in his most confidently optimistic tone. “We can make another just as good anywhere down there in half an hour or less. That puddle held nothing but sea water that had leaked through the sand, partly filtering itself in doing so. We can dig a little hole anywhere down that way, and if we choose the right sort of place we’ll get better water than the spring ever yielded. I’ll look after that when Mr. Dunbar and I go fishing. We’ll have the sand out of this well by noon, too—it’s very loose and easily handled.”
“But, Cal,” interrupted Tom; “we haven’t a thing to dig with. The two shovels we had were in the hut.”