nephew, according to the usual custom of travelers, to name the stream after him?"
"Good," said I. And the name of "Hans-bach" was at once agreed upon.
Hans was not a bit more proud after hearing our determination than he was before. After having taken a very small modicum of the welcome refreshment, he had seated himself in a corner with his usual imperturbable gravity.
"Now," said I, "it is not worth while letting this water run to waste."
"What is the use," replied my uncle, "the source from which this river rises is inexhaustible."
"Never mind," I continued, “let us fill our goat skin and gourds, and then try to stop the opening up."
My plan, after some hesitation, was followed or attempted. Hans picked up all the broken pieces of granite he had knocked out, and using some tow he happened to have about him, tried to shut up the fissure he had made in the wall. All he did was to scald his hands. The pressure was too great, and all our attempts were utter failures.
"It is evident," I remarked, "that the upper surface of these springs is situated at a very great height above—as we may fairly infer from the great pressure of the jet."
"That is by no means doubtful," replied my uncle, "if this column of water is about thirty-two thousand feet high, the atmospheric pressure must be something enormous. But a new idea has just struck me."
"And what is that?"
"Why be at so much trouble to close this aperture?"
"Because———" I hesitated and stammered, having no real reason.
"When our water bottles are empty, we are not at all sure that we shall be able to fill them," observed my uncle.
"I think that is very probable."
"Well, then, let this water run. It will, of course, naturally follow in our track, and will serve to guide and refresh us."
"I think the idea a good one," I cried, in reply, "and with this rivulet as a companion, there is no further reason why we should not succeed in our marvellous project."
"Ah, my boy," said the professor, laughing, "after all, you are coming round."
