“Don’t you let that make you feel bad,” said Mr. Brown, trying to smile. “Hem! We’ll have to hurry ef we git on to that cart before it leaves for th’ barn! Now says I, your little legs has got to run to keep up with me.”
CHAPTER XXII
THE BEAUTIFUL DAY
“HEY there—look out for that boy!” roared the farmer.
It was all done in a minute. The mass of hay, with David in its center, slid neatly off the top of the cart to the ground. Bill, the hired man, pitchfork in hand, leaned over the edge in a state of great consternation, the rest of the laborers, the loading all completed, watching to see the cart start off for the barn.
“Jehoshaphat!” Mr. Brown pushed them all aside, and threw himself over the landslide of hay. “Get him out! Get th’ boy out!” he roared, pawing frantically to right and to left to reach David. The laborers fell to with such energy that hay flew in every direction, and at last David was pulled out white as a sheet, and gasping for breath.
“Land o’ Goshen!” Farmer Brown rose up tall and straight. “You dumb lummux, you!” and he shook his fist at Bill, “to let this happen!”
Bill cowered down on top of the hay out of sight. David tried his best to speak, but he hadn’t any breath to start the words.
“Ye ain’t hurt, be ye?” cried Farmer Brown, in an anguish. Then he felt David’s arms and made him take a step or two to try his legs.
Davie shook his head, and said, “No,”—while the men picked out the wisps of hay from his soft light hair, and dusted off his little calico blouse.
“Well, that’s a mercy,” breathed the farmer at last. “It’s th’ biggest luck I ever see in my life.”