DRAGGING STONES.
The next morning the donkey was as good as new, farmer Taylor said, as he taught Herbert how to harness him into his wagon. "Hold your reins up taut, like this, my boy. Hurrah! I never did see a sight like that before. Such a turn-out will astonish the natives."
Bertie drove up to the door and then called out,—
"Mamma, mamma, can't Winnie go too. I'll bring her home safe in time for her nap."
"Not to-day, dear. Wait till you have learned a little how to manage."
When Bertie turned into the field, he saw that business had commenced in earnest. There were two men, each with a pair of oxen and a flat piece of wood attached to them by a heavy iron chain. The men were hawing and geeing when he drove near; but they stopped short and stared when they saw him.
"What kind of a critter do you call that now?" one man asked, after squirting a whole mouthful of tobacco-juice from his mouth.
"It's a donkey, sir."
Bertie's mamma had taught him to be polite to every one.
Both the men came up to the creature, patted him, felt of his ears, and one began to pull his mouth open.
"Please, sir, don't hurt him," urged Bertie, twitching the reins. But, then, looking at the patient oxen, he said,—"Will you please tell me why you don't have a cart instead of that flat board?"
"'Tisn't a board; it's a heavy piece of plank; and it's called a drag. If you're over at the place presently, you'll see what it's for. Come, Bright," he shouted, touching the ox nearest him. "Gee up."
The other man followed, though he often looked back, laughing to see the donkey carriage and the little boy driver.
"There's a good bit of things in the world that we never see," he said to his companion. "The Squire's son is a pert little chap, isn't he now?"
"He's the politest young un I ever see," was Tom's answer.
Bertie, meanwhile, drove through the field,—there was quite a good road now,—and on by the lake to Woodlawn. His father was standing near a company of men who were digging with spades, throwing the dirt out behind them.
Bertie jumped from his wagon and threw the reins upon Whitefoot's back, and instantly the tame creature began to taste the grass.
"I'm going to stay here till dinner, papa; what shall I do with my donkey?"
"Take off his harness, and let him feed; I don't think he'll stray away. At any rate you can try him. You must begin to teach him to come to you when you call."
The little fellow drove the wagon under the shade of a tree; and very soon Whitefoot, finding himself at liberty, walked slowly off toward the lake, nibbling grass as he went.
"Now," said papa, "you may walk about wherever you please. You are old enough to keep out of danger. When the men come with the oxen you will see them unload."
"What are all those men doing, papa?"
"They are Irishmen whom I hire by the day to dig the cellar to our new house. Do you see these sticks driven into the ground?"
"Yes, papa, and the string tied to them. What is it for?"
"It is to mark out exactly the line where the cellar is to be. See, this is the front of the house; and I have measured twenty feet. Your mother wishes the room to be eighteen feet wide; and it is necessary to allow one foot each side for the thickness of the walls, the plastering, etc."
"But, papa, here is another stick only a little way off. Wont mamma's room be larger than this?"
"Yes, it extends back into what is called the main building. Don't you remember in Mr. Rand's plan how this room projects, or comes out, beyond the rest?"
"Oh, yes, papa; I understand now, and right here where I stand, the piazza will be. Wont it be very pretty?"
"I think so; but we must thank mamma for the plan. It was her taste suggested it to the architect."
"Mr. Taylor says mamma is the most wonderful woman he ever saw," replied the boy earnestly.
"Mr. Taylor is a wise man," said papa. "I entirely agree with him."
"Oh, see how hard the oxen are pulling! Wont that wood break their necks?"
"That is a yoke, and they are used to it. They are dragging stones for the cellar."
"Why don't they put the stones in a cart, papa?"
"Because, though it would be rather easier for the oxen to draw them, it would be harder for the men to load and unload."
"Are stones very heavy indeed?"
"You can try to lift one."
"I can't move it one mite, papa. I don't see what good they will do in the cellar."
"No, I suppose not; but you will learn."
"Haw, Bright! Come up, Buck!" shouted Tom.
Both the oxen pulled with all their strength; but the ground was soft and rising. Bertie could not see that the drag moved an inch.
Tom lashed and lashed the patient creatures, shouting with all his might. When he found this did no good he began to swear.
"Oh, dear!" exclaimed Bertie, shrinking behind his father.
"Stop!" said Mr. Curtis, in a firm, clear voice. "You must throw off part of your load; and I want to say one thing now. I'll do all the swearing that's done on the place."
Tom's face grew very red; but he did not speak. For one instant he stood, and looked into his master's eye. He knew then, as well as he did a year afterward, that the Squire meant exactly what he said.
Two large stones were thrown off; Buck and Bright pulled again, and soon the heap on the drag was lying by the side of the other stones.
Before the oxen went away for another load, Bertie had found out that the names of the other pair were Star and Spot, from some white marks on their forehead. He had learned, too, why drags were better than carts to draw large stones with.
