late nineteenth century were becoming increasingly difficult to find intact. "I would pay for the gas myself," he added, as though that were the important part.
Adele considered the request while looking at the strange white streak dried along the cuffs of her boots. Owen spoke like a man interested in the question before the answer, something she had not heard often enough during the previous month. She asked whether he would sign the visitor safety form and coordinate his inspection with Warren so nobody touched the protected excavation without permission. He agreed immediately. They arranged for him to arrive the next morning, and when she hung up Adele wrote his name in her notebook beneath the latest rainfall figure.
Frank stopped by at dusk to help move a gate panel, and Adele told him about the geologist. He scratched his jaw and asked whether a university professor was likely to know why a man in 1888 buried four-inch iron pipe beneath a pond. "I hope so," she answered. Frank looked toward the ridge, its outline turning black against the evening sky, and said, "If he doesn't, I suppose we'll keep looking." It was the first time he had used the word we without being asked.
Owen Pratt arrived in a dusty station wagon that looked almost as old as he did, though its engine ran quietly and its tires were new. He had the stooped posture of someone who had spent decades examining rock formations below eye level, and he carried a weatherproof field notebook in one pocket and a magnifying lens in the other. His hair was white at the temples, his boots were already scuffed, and he apologized for being early. He had driven three hours because, he explained, he was afraid the photographs would turn out to be more interesting than whatever remained when he got there.
Adele took him down the gravel lane to the excavation, where Warren was reviewing the day's work with two laborers. Owen stopped at the edge without stepping past the barrier and looked for nearly a full minute before speaking. His gaze moved from the pipe to the fitted stones, along the direction of the trench, and then up the ridge. He asked about the former water level, the position of the persistent winter opening, the seasonal smell, and the cattle's behavior, writing short notes between questions. He asked no one whether Adele had been foolish to drain the pond.
Warren brought out the enlarged site photographs and explained what the team had exposed under the revised permit. A section of the old pipe appeared to disappear beneath a tightly fitted wall of stone near the base of the ridge. Another section seemed to