But I started upon my hazardous job, selecting a spot near the Mission Station and close to the public path, that my prospective well might be useful to all. I began to dig, with pick and spade and bucket at hand, an American axe for a hammer and crowbar, and a ladder for service by-and-bye. The good old Chief now told off his men in relays to watch me, lest I should attempt to take my own life, or do anything outrageous, saying,— “Poor Missi! That’s the way with all who go mad. There’s no driving of a notion out of their heads. We must just watch him now. He will find it harder to work with pick and spade than with his pen, and when he’s tired we’ll persuade him to give it up.” I did get exhausted sooner than I expected, toiling under that tropical sun; but we never own before the Natives that we are beaten, so I went into the house and filled my vest pocket with large beautiful English-made fish-hooks. These are very tempting to the young men, as compared with their own,—skilfully made though _they_ be out of shell, and serving their purposes wonderfully. Holding up a large hook, I cried,—“One of these to every man who fills and turns over three buckets out of this hole!” A rush was made to get the first turn, and back again for another and another. I kept those on one side who had got a turn, till all the rest in order had a chance, and bucket after bucket was filled and emptied rapidly. Still the shaft seemed to lower very slowly, while my fish-hooks were disappearing very quickly. I was constantly there, and took the heavy share of everything, and was thankful one evening to find that we had cleared more than twelve feet deep,—when lo! next morning, one side had rushed in, and our work was all undone. The old Chief and his best men now came around me more earnestly than ever. He remonstrated with me very gravely. He assured me for the fiftieth time that rain would never be seen coming up through the earth on Aniwa! “Now,” said he, “had you been in that hole last night, you would have been buried, and a Man-of-war would have come from Queen ’Toria to ask for the Missi that lived here. We would say, ‘Down in that hole.’ The Captain would ask, ‘Who killed him and put him down there?’ We would have to say, ‘He went down there himself!’ The Captain would answer, ‘Nonsense! who ever heard of a white man going down into the earth to bury himself? You killed him, you put him there; don’t hide your bad conduct with lies!’ Then he would bring out his big guns and shoot us, and destroy our Island in revenge. You are making your own grave, Missi, and you will make ours too. Give up this mad freak, for no rain will be found by going downwards on Aniwa. Besides, all your fish-hooks cannot tempt my men again to enter that hole; they don’t want to be buried with you. Will you not give it up now?”