“Ay, it is heavy.”
“How much do you expect to get for your faggots in the town?”
“I shall get a crown,” the man said. “I would not take under, and they ought to be worth more than that now the snow has begun to fall.”
“We are going into the town,” Paolo said. “We are younger than you, and between us we could drag it along easily. I have got a crown in my pocket to buy some things with. I don't mind giving it to you for your load. If I can sell the faggots for a few soldi over that we shall be able to buy something for ourselves.”
“It is a bargain, lad,” the old man said. “I am getting old and the rheumatism is in my bones, and I shall be very glad to be spared the journey; so give me your money and take the poles. I hope you will be successful, and sell them a little higher. You had better ask a crown and a half. The women are sure to beat you down, but you will make ten or twelve soldi for yourselves.”
Paolo handed the crown to the old man.
“How had we better take this, Paolo?” Hector asked, as the old man, chuckling with satisfaction at having escaped a toilsome journey, turned to retrace his steps.
“There is room for us both between the shafts,” Paolo said, “one behind the other. It would be much easier to walk holding both poles than for us both to take one, as in that way the weight will be balanced on each side of us.”
There was indeed just room between the ends of the poles and the pile of brushwood for them to walk close behind each other, and as the greater portion of the weight rested on the other ends of the poles they did not find the burden a heavy one.
“How are we going to sell these, Paolo?”