.. all of which immediately lay
like a lump of rock in me....
No, I could not keep it up! It was too much of an effort, such frightful
labour, for sixteen hours of the day. But I thought of the old man who
had jeered at me, and I trudged a-field with the rest, my fork slung
over my shoulder ... sore ... I ached in every muscle ... muscles I
never knew existed before talked to me with their little voices of
complaint.
But after the first load I began to be better....
And by noon I was singing and whistling irrepressibly.
"You'll do ... but you'll have to put a hat on or you'll drop with
sun-stroke," Bonton remarked.
"I never wear a hat."
"All right. It's your funeral, not mine," and the boss walked away.
* * * * *
"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.
Pages:
375
376
377
378
379
380
381
382
383
384
385
386
387
388
389
390
391
392
393
394
395
396
397
398
399