as there is later in the season, but we’d better drink of the best so long as we can.”
“But where is the best?” eagerly inquired Stanley, still eying the silent pool lovingly.
“Right here, after I’ve put in my filter plant,” explained Bub, beginning to dig a hole near the swamp.
“A well, eh?” mused Stanley. “Will you have time to finish it?”
“It’ll be done in a minute. Here, take the stick and go at it. Then I’ll spell you. I won’t try to polish it off as I would if we were to stop here.”
Their united efforts soon resulted in quite an excavation and Stanley was surprised to see it fill with water. Only the water was muddy; and he observed, “That’s worse than the other. I’d rather drink from this little stream that’s trickling away.”
“That little stream is filling our well,” replied Bub. “The original water won’t kill you, but it would be like drinking a menagerie. Now we’ll bail this out.” And using his hat he soon emptied his small cistern.
Stanley was again surprised to observe the hole fill up with much clearer water, water that looked inviting. And without waiting for it to settle he leaned over and drank deeply.
