"Have a nip and fortify yourself against the sun ... that's the way to do," suggested the old driver. He proffered his whiskey flask.
"Nope ... I've plenty of water to drink."
The water boy kept trailing about with his brown jug. I tipped it up to my mouth and drank and drank ... I drank and drank and worked and worked and sweated and sweated ... the top of my head perspired so that it felt cool in the highest welter of heat.
In the hot early afternoon I saw the old man lying under a tree.
"What's the matter?"
—"too hot!"
"Where's your whiskey now?"
—"'tain't the whiskey. That keeps a fellow up ... it's because I'm old, not young, like you," he contested stubbornly.