“Now the branches an’ stuff.”
She had reserved one of the poles, for what reason soon became apparent.
Each sack was too heavy to be carried by one person, so she slung one to the middle of the pole, and they started for the beach, Caleb and Joshua fashion, Ratcliffe in front.
It was horrible work. They had to keep step, which was difficult; owing to the bushes, the going was bad. The sack kept slipping toward Jude, owing to the inequality of their heights, and the pressure of the pole on his shoulder was galling; also the wind had changed and was coming from the direction of the gulf, warm and moist like the breath from a great mouth.
When they reached the beach he sat down. Unused to hard work and unused to the climate, he was sweating and exhausted. Jude looked comparatively cool and fresh.
“Now then, Lazybones!” said Jude. Then she collapsed also, sitting down with her knees up and her arms round them.
She seemed to have forgotten the sack, Ratcliffe, everything, as she sat whistling dreamily between her teeth and staring across the water toward the Sarah.
She had kicked off her boots, and her toes were playing with the sand. Uncramped by boots, her feet were as expressive as her hands.
“You’ll hear Satan begin to holler in a minute,” said Jude.
“Let him,” said the other, “I’m not going to stir another foot till I’ve rested myself.”