n's hat was missing. His clothing was
muddy and disarranged. His position was such that she could not see the
face.

Drawing back, Judy looked cautiously about; then, picking up a heavy
clod of dirt from the ploughed edge of the garden, and crouching again
at the brink of the bank, ready for instant flight, she threw the
clod into the water near the boat. The still form in the boat made no
movement following the splash. Selecting a smaller clod, the girl threw
the bit of dirt into the stern of the boat itself, where it broke in
fragments. And, at this, the figure moved slightly.

"Hit's alive, all right," commented Judy to herself, with a grin of
satisfaction, at the result of her investigation. "But hit's sure time
he was a-gittin' up."

Carefully selecting a still smaller bit of dirt, she deliberately tossed
it at the figure itself. Her aim was true, and the clod struck the
man on the shoulder, with the result that he stirred uneasily, and,
muttering something which Judy could not hear, half-turned on his back
so that the girl saw the haggard, unshaven face. 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. However, I don't think I am so much alive that it makes
any material difference." He lifted the whisky bottle, and studied it
thoughtfully.

"You-all come dad burned near not bein' ary bit alive," returned the
girl.

"Yes?" said the man, inquiringly.

"Yep; you sure did come mighty nigh hit. If your old John-boat had
a-carried you-all on down ter Elbow Rock, 'stead of bein' ketched in
the eddy here, you-all would sure 'nough been a-talkin' to the Devil by
now."

The man, looking out ov