"She was going a little strong, last night.

She'll be all right by and by, when she gets started again." The negro, Jim, had returned with his loaded tray, and was passing among the members of the company with his assortment of glasses, when some one called attention to Harry Green, who was just pulling his boat up to the landing after his visit to the little log house down the river.
A boisterous chorus greeted the boatman: "Hello, Harry! Did you find anything?
You're just in time.

What'll you have ?" With a wave of greeting, the man fastened his boat to the landing, and started up the slope.
"He'll have a Scotch, of course!" said some one.

"Did anybody ever know him to take anything else?
Go and get it, Jim.

He'll be nearly dead for a drink after rowing all that distance." The woman in the hammock lowered her book, and lay watching the man as he came up the path toward the steps.
Harry Green, who, apparently, was a person of importance among them, seated himself in an easy chair on the veranda, and accepted the glass proffered by Jim.
"Did you find any eggs, Harry ?" demanded one.