She saw, too, that, in one hand, the man clutched an empty whisky bottle.
At sight of the bottle, the mountain girl rose to her feet with an understanding laugh.

"Hell!" she said aloud; "drunk,--that's all--dead drunk.

I'll sure fetch him out of hit." And then, grinning with malicious delight, she proceeded to pelt the man in the boat with clods of dirt until he scrambled to a sitting posture, and looked up in bewildered confusion.
"If you please," he said, in a hoarse voice, to the sallow, old-young face that grinned down at him from the top of the bank, "which one of the Devil's imps are you ?" As she looked into that upturned face, Judy's grin vanished.

"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.