a good fellow. As for Zeke and the
Cockney, they seemed mightily pleased at this evidence of our
willingness to exert ourselves.

It was not long ere all the potatoes were turned out; and then came
the worst of it: they were to be lugged down to the beach, a
distance of at least a quarter of a mile. And there being no such
thing as a barrow, or cart, on the island, there was nothing for it
but spinal-marrows and broad shoulders. Well knowing that this part of
the business would be anything but agreeable, Zeke did his best to
put as encouraging a face upon it as possible; and giving us no time
to indulge in desponding thoughts, gleefully directed our attention
to a pile of rude baskets--made of stout stalks--which had been
provided for the occasion. So, without more ado, we helped ourselves
from the heap: and soon we were all four staggering along under our
loads.

The first trip down, we arrived at the beach together: Zeke's
enthusiastic cries proving irresistible. A trip or two more, however,
and my shoulders began to grate in their sockets; while the doctor's
tall figure acquired an obvious stoop. Presently, we both threw down
our baskets, protesting we could stand it no longer. But our
employers, bent, as it Were, upon getting the work out of us by a
silent appeal to our moral sense, toiled away without pretending to
notice us. It was as much as to say, "There, men, we've been boarding
and lodging ye for the last three days; and yesterday ye did nothing
earthly but eat; so stand by now, and look at us working, if ye
dare." Thus driven to it, then, we resumed our employment. Yet, in
spite of all we could do, we lagged behind Zeke and Shorty, who,
breathing hard, and perspiring at every pore, toiled away without
pause or cessation. I almost wickedly wished that they would load
themselves down with one potato too many.

Gasping as I was with my own hamper, I could not, for the life of me,
help laughing at Long Ghost. There he went:--his long neck thrust
forward, his arms twisted behind him to form a shelf for his basket
to rest on; and his stilts of legs every once in a while giving way
under him, as if his knee-joints slipped either way.

"There! I carry no more!" he exclaimed all at once, flinging his
potatoes into the boat, where the Yankee was just then stowing them
away.

"Oh, then," said Zeke, quite briskly, "I guess you and Paul had better
try the 'barrel-machine'--come along, I'll fix ye out in no time"