It lay in a little hollow, where a small stream ran through a sparse grove of young white oaks.

A half dozen tents were pitched under the trees, horses and oxen were corraled at a little distance, and a group of men sat on camp stools or lay on blankets about a bright fire.

The twang of a banjo became audible as they drew nearer, and they saw a couple of negroes, from some neighboring plantation, "breaking down" a juba in approved style, amid the "hi, hi's" of the spectators.
Mr.Jeff Thompson, for it was the camp of this redoubtable engineer, gave the travelers a hearty welcome, offered them ground room in his own tent, ordered supper, and set out a small jug, a drop from which he declared necessary on account of the chill of the evening.
"I never saw an Eastern man," said Jeff, "who knew how to drink from a jug with one hand.

It's as easy as lying.

So." He grasped the handle with the right hand, threw the jug back upon his arm, and applied his lips to the nozzle.