“Well,” said Euphemia, “Mr. Ball says it's all right, if we keep the fence up. He don't want his cows to get into the creek, and I'm sure we don't want 'em walking over us. He couldn't understand, though, why we wanted to live out here. I explained the whole thing to him very carefully, but it didn't seem to make much impression on him. I believe he thinks Pomona has something the matter with her, and that we have come to stay out here in the fresh air so as not to take it.” “What an extremely stupid man Mr. Ball must be!” I said. The fire did not burn very well, and while I was at work at it, Euphemia spread a cloth upon the grass, and set forth bread and butter, cheese, sardines, potted ham, preserves, biscuits, and a lot of other things. We did not wait for the kettle to boil, but concluded to do without tea or coffee, for this meal, and content ourselves with pure water. For some reason or other, however, the creek water did not seem to be very pure, and we did not like it a bit. “After lunch,” said I, “we will go and look for a spring; that will be a good way of exploring the country.” “If we can't find one,” said Euphemia, “we shall have to go to the house for water, for I can never drink that stuff.” Soon after lunch we started out. We searched high and low, near and far, for a spring, but could not find one. At length, by merest accident, we found ourselves in the vicinity of old John's little house. I knew he had a good well, and so we went in to get a drink, for our ham and biscuits had made us very thirsty. We told old John, who was digging potatoes, and was also very much surprised to see us so soon, about our unexpected trouble in finding a spring. “No,” said he, very slowly, “there is no spring very near to you. Didn't you tell your gal to bring you water?” “No,” I replied; “we don't want her coming down to the camp. She is to attend to the house.” “Oh, very well,” said John; “I will bring you water, morning and night,--good, fresh water,--from my well, for,--well, for ten cents a day.” “That will be nice,” said Euphemia, “and cheap, too. And then it will be well to have John come every day; he can carry our letters.” “I don't expect to write any letters.” “Neither do I,” said Euphemia; “but it will be pleasant to have some communication with the outer world.” So we engaged old John to bring us water twice a day. I was a little disappointed at this, for I thought that camping on the edge of a stream settled the matter of water. But we have many things to learn in this world. Early in the afternoon I went out to catch some fish for supper. We agreed to dispense with dinner, and have breakfast, lunch, and a good solid supper. For some time I had poor luck. There were either very few fish in the creek, or they were not hungry. I had been fishing an hour or more when I saw Euphemia running toward me. “What's the matter?” said I.