The well deepened by inches rather than feet while Wallie sweated, and his suspicion gradually became a conviction as he watched them that they were prolonging the work purposely. It seemed to be in the nature of a vacation for them with just enough exercise to keep them in condition. His antipathy had become aversion, and Wallie sometimes caught himself with his fork poised in mid air, stopping to hate John, who munched and smacked beside him, or Will, who gobbled at the end of the table, or Rufus, shovelling opposite him. Again, as they came at a trot in response to his dinner call, he visualized himself braining them with the axe as they entered, and found pleasure in the picture. If hatred generated a poison in the system as asserted, Wallie had a notion that his bite would have been as fatal as a cobra's. His feeling reached a point where the well became of secondary importance. To find a way to rid himself of the Reed family was in his thoughts constantly, but there seemed nothing to do but endure them somehow until they had sunk the sixty-eight feet, according to the contract, so he went on suffering and cooking with all the grace he could muster. Yet as the hole deepened he could not help a certain feeling of pride in it. The sense of possession was a strong trait in him, and this was _his_ well on _his_ homestead. He always felt the same pleasant glow of ownership when he looked at his cabin and his fence, even at his dry cow and his locoed horses, and once he had a well with a curb over it! Wallie always expanded his chest a little as he thought of it. He made frequent pilgrimages to the well, and as he hung over the edge and called down, Rufus always replied to his inquiry: "I don't see any indications yet but I look for it to come with a gush when we do strike it." When they reached sixty-eight feet and there was still no sign of moisture Wallie told Reed that he was willing to abrogate the contract. "No, sir!" Rufus declared, vigorously. "I've staked my reputation on this well and I'm goin' to keep on diggin'." At seventy-two feet Wallie was desperate. The hole was still as dry as punk, and boarding the Reeds was nothing less than ruinous; besides, he was nauseated with cooking for three persons whom he detested. They could not be insulted, he discovered, and were determined to make him abide by his contract to board them. A solution of his problem came in the night with such force and suddenness that he rolled to and fro in his bunk, hugging himself in ecstasy. He longed for morning to put his idea into execution and when it came, for the first time since their arrival, he was delighted to see the Reeds seating themselves at the table. There were potatoes, bacon, and pancakes, with coffee, for breakfast. John dubiously eyed the transparent fluid in his cup which might as easily have been tea, and commented: "You musta left out somethin'." Will made a wry face after filling it with half a pancake: