But the wind wailed round the church and the rain beat down, dimming the
glass in the flickering lantern, and every now and then Jim could hear a
pick striking against a stone or a heavy thud as of a spadeful of damp
earth being beaten down. Out of the gig came the sack, and out of the
sack speedily came the packman's erstwhile acquaintance, Jock. A gap in
the hedge across the road conveniently accommodated Jock's unresisting
body, over he went into the next field, and once again the mare started
as Dandy Jim sprang into the gig with one bound and quickly struggled
into the empty sack. He was only just in time. A parting clatter of
pickaxe and thud of spade, a swing of the lantern, that sent a yellow
light athwart some grey old headstones, rough voices and hasty steps,
and two men appeared, pushed their implements into the back of the gig,
released the mare from her nose-bag, clambered in, one on either side of
the upright sack, and drove off at a quick trot.
For some time they proceeded in silence.
"A good haul," at last one man remarked; "a young chap--in fine
condition."
"A heavy load for the little mare," said he who held the reins;
"fifteen stone if he's a pound. Not an easy one to tackle afore he died
for want o' breath.
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