"Where can I get a drink?"
"There's the spring at the foot of that bank."
Opening a trap-door in a rude wooden cover, Percy looked down into a shallow well. The only cup at hand was an empty tin can. Rather disdainfully he dipped it full and tasted, then spat with a wry face.
"It's brackish!" he called out, indignantly. "I can't drink that."
Spurling and the others were hard at work unloading the boats. Percy repeated his complaint:
"I can't drink that stuff."
Jim was staggering up the beach, a heavy box of groceries in his arms.
"Sorry!" he replied, indifferently. "That's what all the rest of us'll have to drink. It isn't Poland water, but I've tasted worse."
Percy slammed down the cover and tossed away the can in a huff. Lane was passing boxes and bundles ashore from the dory to Stevens and Filippo.
"Catch hold here, Whittington, and help tote some of this stuff up to the cabin," exhorted Budge.