"I sure
'lowed as how you-all was dead," she explained.
"Well," returned the man in the boat, wearily, "I can assure you that
it's not in the least my fault if I disappoint you. I feel as bad about
it as you do. However, I don't think I am so much alive that it makes
any material difference." He lifted the whisky bottle, and studied it
thoughtfully.
"You-all come dad burned near not bein' ary bit alive," returned the
girl.
"Yes?" said the man, inquiringly.
"Yep; you sure did come mighty nigh hit. If your old John-boat had
a-carried you-all on down ter Elbow Rock, 'stead of bein' ketched in
the eddy here, you-all would sure 'nough been a-talkin' to the Devil by
now."
The man, looking out over the river into the fog, muttered to himself,
"I can't even make a success of dying, it seems."
Again, he regarded the empty bottle in his hand with studied interest.
Then, tossing the bottle into the river, he looked up, once more, to the
girl on the bank above.
"Listen, sister!" he said, nervously. "Is there any place around here
where I can buy a drink? I need something rather badly. Where am I,
anyway?"
"You-all are at Auntie Sue's place," said Judy; "an' there sure ain't no
chance for you-all ter git ary licker here. Where'd you-all come from,
anyhow? How'd you-all git here 'thout no oars ner paddle ner nothin'?
Where was you-all aimin' ter go?"
"Your questions, my good girl, are immaterial and irrelevant,"
returned the man in the boat.
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