"Ay--but I reckon you'll do't, all the same, for t'other half that's to
come when you've got en safe an' sound. Dirty hands make clean money."

"Well, well; ye've been dirtily sarved. I'll see 'ee this arternoon at
the 'Four Lords.' We've orders to sail at five, sharp; so there's no
time to waste."

"Then I won't detain 'ee. Clk, Jessamy!"

The jolting began again, more furiously than ever, as the stranger drew
a long breath. He waited till he judged they must be out of sight, and
then began to stir beneath his load of weed.

"Keep quiet," said Zeb; "you shall get out as soon as we're up the
hill."

The cart began to move more slowly, and tilted back with a slant that
sent the stranger's heels against the tail-board. Zeb jumped down and
trudged at the side. The hill was long, and steep from foot to brow; and
when at length the slope lessened, the wheels turned off at a sharp
angle and began to roll softly over turf.

The weight and smell of the weed were beginning to suffocate the man
beneath it, when Zeb called out "Woa-a!" and the mare stopped.

"Now you can come out."

The other rose on his knees, shook some of his burden off, and blinked
in the strong sunlight.