Glenn began walking downhill.
The route toward the barn seemed longer than usual.
He passed the upper field, the access caps, and the repaired section near the lane.
He thought about the days spent clearing the bore.
The broken iron sleeve.
The split logs.
The new polyethylene pipe.
The survey from 1902.
And the man who had built the system in 1887.
By the time he reached the barn, he was almost afraid to look at the gauge.
He stepped inside.
The needle was moving.
Glenn stopped.
He watched it climb.
Eight pounds.
Ten.
Twelve.
Then it paused.
He leaned closer.
Twelve pounds was far better than four.
But it was still not enough.
The cattle waterers needed approximately fifteen.
Glenn waited.
For several seconds, the needle held almost steady.
He wondered whether some remaining obstruction was limiting the flow.
Then it moved again.
Thirteen.
Fourteen.
Fifteen.
Glenn barely breathed.
The needle continued.
Sixteen.
Seventeen.
Then it settled at eighteen pounds per square inch.
Glenn stared at it.
Eighteen.
The pressure was sufficient to operate the automatic waterers.
He waited, expecting the needle to fall.
It did not.
He checked the connections.
The gauge remained steady.
He opened the waterers.
Water flowed.
The nearest cattle were standing near the eastern fence.
After a while, several moved toward the troughs.