The period of rainy weather which we suffered set me on to think again of that project of digging a moat which we had formerly abandoned. Several considerable rivulets flowed into the lake from the high ground around, of which one, that came down the slope nearest the red rock, had a pretty long course, and by the time it fell into the lake, forty or fifty yards from the hut, was almost a river. Observing how it washed the soil along with it, it came into my head that we might perchance enlist it in our service, and make it do a great part of the work of widening and deepening the trench. Of course Billy must ask his customary question, "What's the good?" following this up with another, more pertinent. "How _can_ we, master? The river--if you call it a river: _I_ don't--don't run anywhere near the trench." "That's true," I said, "but we can make it." "How's that?" said he. "Why, by building a dam across it, and so turning its course where we please," I said. "Oh, more building," says he. "What a one you are, master, for keeping on a-doing things! What's the good? I lay you a cocoa-nut that before you get your dam made, the rain stops, and then where'll you be?" I think I have already shown that Billy was always a good deal better than his word. He used to remind me of that young man in the Scripture, who refused when his father bid him do something, but "afterwards repented and went," and was more to be admired than the plausible sneak, his brother, who said to his father, "I go, sir," and then did nothing of the sort. I once told Billy about this, and he was very much interested, never having heard it before, and said he'd like to know that man, and asked me if I could tell him any more things like that. Accordingly I told him at different times all that I could remember of the Bible stories, and the one he liked best was the story of David, who took his admiration greatly, and whom he always called "the little fellow," thinking of Goliath.