A long, broad-shouldered person was stretched on a wicker chair, and evidently enjoying a nap.

A huge meerschaum pipe and tobacco pouch lay on the grass.

The newcomer's face was covered by a broad-brimmed, decidedly weather-beaten slouch hat, which, legend had it, was purchased originally in South America in the early nineties, and had won fame as the only one of its kind ever worn in the Strand.
"Hullo! Wally! Glad to see you!" shouted Grant joyously.
The sleeper stirred.
"No, not another drop!" he muttered.

"You fellows must have heads of triple brass and stomachs of leather!" "Get up, you rascal, or I'll spill you out of the chair!" said Grant.
A lazy hand removed the hat, and a pair of peculiarly big and bright eyes gazed up into his.
"Oh, it's you, is it ?" drawled a quiet voice.

"Why the blazes did you send for me?
And, having sent, why wake me out of the best sleep I've had for a week ?" "But why didn't you let me know you were coming?
I would have met the train." "I did.