SUMMER HEAT 179 



on the fire, bubbling and puffing out jets of steam. 

 The nearest inhabited place in sight was a small farm- 

 house on the crest of a hill about two and a half 

 miles away, with deep hollows and hills to descend 

 and ascend between. But down below me, at the 

 bottom of the valley, not much more than half a mile 

 from where I stood, there was a small, half-ruined, 

 barn-like building, and not far from the building a 

 shepherd was standing watching his flock. To him 

 I went and asked if any water was to be had at 

 that place. He shook his head. " No well there ? " 

 I said, indicating the old stone building. " Oh yes, 

 there's an old well there ; you can drag the stone 

 off, but you can't get any water without a bottle and 

 string." The fellow's indifference irritated me, and 

 turning my back on him I went and hunted for the 

 well, and succeeded in dragging aside the heavy 

 stone that covered it, to find that the water was 

 not more than about seven feet below the surface. 

 Twisting the band of my tweed hat in the crook 

 of my stick handle, then lying so as to hang well 

 over the edge, I managed to fish up a hatful of 

 water, and drank the whole of it, much to the shep- 

 herd's amusement, who had followed me to watch 

 operations. The water was delightfully cold and 

 refreshing, and the well-soaked hat, when I put it 

 on, kept my head cool for the rest of the day. 



My hat of an unsuitable material had proved 

 directly useful in that case. The straw hat is of course 



