“Nice tug the hoss had, but she brought it well out on to the hard road, and there I rested just a quarter of an hour, giving a holler now and then.
“‘I’m off!’ I says at last, ‘and they may foller. Come on, Juno,’ I says; but the dog wasn’t there.
“That made me more waxy, and I shouted and whistled, and she come from out of the sand-pit and kept looking back, as if she wanted to know why you two didn’t come. She follered the cart, though, right enough; and feeling precious put out, I went on slowly down the hill; stopped in the village ten minutes, and then, knowing you could find out that I’d gone on, I set to for my long job, and trudged on by the hoss.
“It was a long job, hour after hour, for I couldn’t hurry—that little looking load was too heavy for that. And so I went on, and eight o’clock come, and nine, and ten, and you didn’t overtake me, and then it got to be twelve o’clock; and at last, reg’lar fagged out, me and hoss, we got to the yard just as it was striking four, and getting to be day.
“I put the hoss up, and saw Juno go into her kennel, but I was too tired to chain her, and I lay down in the loft on some hay and went off to sleep.
“I didn’t seem to have been asleep above ten minutes, but it was eight o’clock when Old Brownsmith’s brother stirs me up with his foot, and I sat up and stared at him.
“‘Where’s young Grant and the boy?’ he says.
“‘What! ain’t they come?’ I says, and I told him.
“‘And you’ve left the dog behind too,’ he says, quite waxy with me.
“‘No,’ I says; ‘she come home along o’ me and went into her kennel.’