Again he made his way safely through the camps, and without hindrance lounged up to a spot where a large number of men belonging to one of the negro regiments were at work.
"Plantation liquor ?" he said, again assuming a stupid air, to a black sergeant who was with them.

"First-rate stuff, and only fifteen cents a glass." "What plantation liquor like ?" the negro asked.

"Me not know him." "First-rate stuff!" Vincent repeated.

"Mother makes it of spirit and molasses and all sorts.

Fifteen cents a glass." "Well, I will take a glass," the sergeant said.