Bindle's suggestion that he should "'oist" her up, Mrs. Bindle had ignored, and she flatly refused to climb the spokes of the wheel. The step in front was nearly a yard from the ground, and Mrs. Bindle resented Young Tom's sandy leer.
It was Patrol-leader Smithers who eventually solved the problem by suggesting a dandy-chair, to which Mrs. Bindle reluctantly agreed. Accordingly Bindle and the porter crossed arms and clasped one another's wrists.
Mrs. Bindle took up a position with her back to the tail of the cart, and the two Sir Walters bent down, whilst Patrol-leader Smithers turned his back and, with great delicacy, strove to engage the fixed eye of Young Tom; but without success.
"Now when I says 'eave—'eave," Bindle admonished the porter.
Gingerly Mrs. Bindle sat down upon their crossed hands.
"One, two, three—'eave!" cried Bindle, and they heaved.
There was a loud guffaw from Young Tom, a stifled scream, and Mrs. Bindle was safely in the cart; but on her back, with the soles of her elastic-sided boots pointing to heaven. Bindle had under-estimated the thews of the porter.
"Right away!" cried Patrol-leader Smithers, feeling that prompt action alone could terminate so regrettable an incident, and he and Bindle clambered up into the cart, where Mrs. Bindle, having regained control of her movements, was angrily tucking her skirts about her.
The cart jerked forward, and Young Tom and his colleague grinned their valedictions, in their hearts the knowledge that they had just lived a crowded hour of glorious life.
The cart jolted its uneasy way along the dusty high-road, with Bindle beside the driver, Mrs. Bindle sitting on the blankets as grim as Destiny itself, engaged in working up a case against Bindle, and the boy scout watchful and silent, as behoves the leader of an enterprise.