rungs of the ladder. "Just look down here, Griggs. Sixty feet deep!"

"I'll take your word for it," I said. "I wouldn't hold on to that ladder,
Hawkins; it might take a notion to go down with you."

"Nonsense!" smiled the inventor. "The gear's locked. It can't move.
Why, look here!"

The man actually swung himself out to the ladder and stood there. It made
my blood run cold.

I expected to see Hawkins, ladder, and all shoot down into the water, and
I wondered whether Heaven would send wind enough to hoist him out before
he drowned.

But nothing happened. Hawkins himself stood there and surveyed me with
sneering triumph.

"You see, Griggs," he observed caustically, "once in a while I do know
something about my inventions. Now, if your faint heart will allow it, I
should advise you to take a peep down here. So far as I know, it's the
only well in the State built entirely of white tiles. Just steady yourself
on the ladder and look."

Like a senseless boy taking a dare, I reached out, gripped the rung above
Hawkins, and looked down.

Certainly it was a fine well. I never paid much attention to wells, but I
could see at a glance that this one was exceptional.