It was quite evident that he was attempting a task for which he was not equal, and that, instead of the case being deposited in the waggon, it would the next minute go down with a crash to the ground; and, as soon as this was seen, Nic involuntarily ran to help, and his father shouted as he, too, ran and seized one side of the case, with the result that the black grinned and made way, to stand looking on.
“Jump down, Brookes!” cried the doctor. “You ought to know better. Get the case up first, and then put it in its place.”
“Know better?” growled the man. “I know how to load a waggon; but who’s to do it with a fellow like that and a nigger? One’s got no muscle, and t’other’s like a black-pudd’n.”
“Get down—quick!” cried the doctor.
“I’m a-comin’,” growled the man; and he descended slowly, placed a shoulder under the end of the chest, and it was turned over on to its side.
“Jump in, Leather, and work it into its place.”
“Oh, I can do that,” grumbled the elder man; but his companion sprang up lightly, hoisted one end of the case, and walked it bit by bit to where it was to stand, before leaping down again.
“Is this our waggon, then?” asked Nic.
“Yes, boy. We take the load back with us. I think we shall just get all up in one load.”
“Are the roads good?” asked Nic, as he gazed at the heavy packing-cases; and the elder man grinned, while the labourer addressed as Leather, (a name which accorded well with his tanned skin), glared at the speaker once with a frown, and then told the black to help him with the next case.