Wall, when we drove in, I see Elburtus a liftin' and a luggin', a loadin' a big barrell into a double wagon for a farmer; and I says,—
“What under the sun is Elburtus Gansey a doin'?”
And Josiah says, in a gay tone,—
“He is a electionerin', Samantha: see him sweat,” says he. “Salt is heavy, and political life is wearin', when anybody goes into it deep, and tackles it in the way Elburtus tackles it.”
He seemed to think it wus a joke; but I says,—
“He is jest a killin' himself, Josiah Allen; and you would set here, and see him.”
“I hain't a runnin',” says he in a calm tone.
“No,” says I: “you wouldn't run a step to help anybody. And see there,” says I. “How good, how good that man is!”
Elburtus had finished loadin' the salt, and now he wus a holdin' the horses for the man to load some spring-beds. And the horses wus skairt by 'em, and wuz jest a liftin' Elburtus right up offen his feet. Why, they pranced, and tore, and lifted him up, and switched him round, and then they'd set him down with a crash, and whinner.