It is very clear water and it has a sparkle that lures the unwary, but it is common knowledge that no man ever drank two swallows of it if he could help himself.

So the water supply of Patmos lies twelve miles away in the edge of the hills, where there is a very good spring.

One of the six male residents of Patmos hauls water in barrels, at fifty cents a barrel.

He makes a living at it, too.
One other male resident keeps the lodging place,--I avoid the term lodging house, because this place is not a house.

It is a shack with a sign straddling out over the hot porch to insult the credulity of the passers-by.