“What is it?” I asked.
“Sandwiches. You’ll be glad of them by and by.”
I took the packet unwillingly, for I was not hungry then, and I thought it a nuisance; for I had no idea then that I was providing myself with that which would save my life in the peril that was to come.
It was ten minutes to twelve when I went down to the yard, where all the dogs were standing on their hind legs and straining at their chains, eager to be patted and talked to, and strongly excited at the sight of the horse being put to in the strong, springless cart.
They howled and yelped and barked, begging in their way for a run, but they were nearly all doomed to disappointment.
“Just going to start without you,” cried Ike in his surly way.
“No, you were not,” I said. “It isn’t time.”
“’Tis by my watch,” he growled as he fastened the chains of the cart harness. “I don’t pay no heed to no other time.”
“Bring as good a load as you can, and the coarser the better; but don’t hurry the horse,” said Mr Solomon. “Give him his own time, and he’ll draw a very heavy load.”
“All right, master. I’ll take care.”