In a distant cluster of holiday villas in the skirts of a mountain, three men are digging a well. Their equipment is primitive, their pay miserable. They turn the manual drill hour after hour, day after day, and pray they will strike water quickly. One of them thinks about the money he will bring home, the other enjoys the relative freedom of the job, away from the suffocating city smog and the nine-to-six routine. The third man is a student, working illegally during the vacation to make the money to take his girlfriend to the seaside. The owner of the villa appears from time to time only to urge them to work faster. One day, when they start digging the well, the workers find remains of a human skeleton, a tin ring, several buttons, and a rusty belt buckle buried long ago.