Brownsmith's Boy Part 14

I laughed at the idea, and this pleased Ike, who looked at me from top to toe.

"You couldn't load a cart," he said at last.

"Couldn't I?" I replied. "Why not? It seems easy enough."

"Seems easy! of course it does, youngster. Seems easy to take a spade and dig all day, but you try, and I'm sorry for your back and jyntes."

"But you've only got to put the baskets in the cart," I argued.

"Only got to put the baskets in the cart!" grumbled Ike. "Hark at him!"

"That's what you've been doing," I continued.

"What I've been doing!" he said. "I'm sorry for the poor horse if you had the loading up. A cart ain't a wagon."

"Well, I know that," I said, "a wagon has four wheels, and a cart two."

"Send I may live," cried Ike. "Why, he is a clever boy. He knows a cart's got two wheels and a wagon four."

He said this in a low serious voice, as if talking to himself, and admiring my wisdom; but of course I could see that it was his way of laughing at me, and I hastened to add:

"Oh, you know what I mean!"

"Yes, I know what you mean, but you don't know what I mean, and if you're so offle clever you'd best teach me, for I can't teach you."

"But I want you to teach me," I cried. "I've come here to learn. What is there in particular in loading a cart?"

"Oh, you're ever so much more clever than I am," he grumbled. "Here, len's a hand with that barge."

This was to the man who was helping him, and who now seized hold of another basket, which was hoisted into its place.

Then more baskets were piled up, the light flower barges being put at the top, till the cart began to look like a mountain as it stood there with the shafts and hind portion supported by pieces of wood.

"Look ye here," said Ike, waving his arms about from the top of the pile of baskets, and addressing me as if from a rostrum. "When you loads a cart, reck'lect as all your weight's to come on your axle-tree. Your load's to be all ballancy ballancy, you see, so as you could move it up or down with a finger."

"Oh yes, I see!" I cried.

"Oh yes, you see--now I've telled you," said Ike. "People as don't know how to load a cart spyles their hosses by loading for'ard, and getting all the weight on the hoss's back, or loading back'ards, and getting all the pull on the hoss's belly-band."

"Yes, I see clearly now," I said.

"Of course you do! Now you see my load here's so reg'lated that when I take them props away after the horse is in, all that weight'll swing on the axle-tree, and won't hurt the horse at all. That's what I call loading up to rights."

"You've got too much weight behind, Ike," said Old Brownsmith, who came up just then, and was looking on from opposite one wheel of the cart.

"No, no, she's 'bout right," growled Ike to himself.

"You had better put another barge on in front. Lay it flat," cried Old Brownsmith, whose eye was educated by years of experience, and I stood back behind the cart, listening curiously to the conversation. "Yes, you're too heavy behind."

"No, no, she's 'bout right, master," growled Ike, "right as can be.

Just you look here."

He took a step back over the baskets, and I heard the prop that supported the cart fall, as Ike yelled out--"Run, boy, run!"

I did not run, for two reasons. Firstly, I was too much confused to understand my danger. Secondly, I had not time, for in spite of Ike's insistence that the balance was correct the shafts flew up; Ike threw himself down on the baskets, and the top layer of flat round sieves that had not yet been tied like the barges, came gliding off like a landslip, and before I knew where I was, I felt myself stricken down, half buried by the wicker avalanche, and all was blank.

CHAPTER SEVEN.

I MAKE A FRIEND.

I began to understand and see and hear again an angry voice was saying:

"You clumsy scoundrel! I believe you did it on purpose to injure the poor boy."

"Not I," growled another voice. "I aren't no spite agen him. Now if it had been young Shock--"

"Don't stand arguing," cried the first voice, which seemed to be coming from somewhere out of a mist. "Run up the road and ask the doctor to come down directly."

"All right, master! I'll go."

"Poor lad! poor boy!" the other voice in the mist seemed to say. "Nice beginning for him!--nice beginning! Tut--tut--tut!"

It sounded very indistinct and dreamy. Somehow it seemed to have something to do with my first attempt to swim, and I thought I was being pulled out of the water, which kept splashing about and making my face and hair wet.

I knew I was safe, but my forehead hurt me just as if it had been scratched by the thorns on one of the hedges close to the water-side.

My head ached too, and I was drowsy. I wanted to go to sleep, but people kept talking, and the water splashed so about my face and trickled back with a musical noise into the river, I thought, but really into a basin.

For all at once I was wide awake again, looking at the geraniums in the window, as I lay on my back upon the sofa.

I did not understand it for a few minutes; for though my eyes were wide open, the aching and giddiness in my head troubled me so, that though I wanted to speak I did not know what to say.

Then, as I turned my eyes from the geraniums in the window and they rested on the grey hair and florid face of Old Brownsmith, who was busily bathing my forehead with a sponge and water, the scene in the yard came back like a flash, and I caught the hand that held the sponge.

"Has it hurt the baskets of flowers?" I cried excitedly.

"Never mind the baskets of flowers," said Old Brownsmith warmly; "has it hurt you?"

"I don't know; not much," I said quickly. "But won't it be a great deal of trouble and expense?"

He smiled, and patted my shoulder.

"Never mind that," he said good-humouredly. "All people who keep horses and carts, and blundering obstinate fellows for servants, have accidents to contend against. There!--never mind, I say, so long as you have no bones broken; and I don't think you have. Here, stretch out your arms."

I did so.

"That's right," he said. "Now, kick out your legs as if you were swimming."