. . . . .
Next day, after lunch, John brought out his little brown bag.
"It won't be very heavy," he said, "and we can carry it in turns. An
hour each."
"I don't think that's quite fair," I said. "After all, it's YOUR
bag. If you take it for an hour and a half, I don't mind taking the
other half."
"Your shoes are heavier than mine, anyhow."
"My pyjamas weigh less. Such a light blue as they are."
"Ah, but my tooth-brush has lost seven bristles. That makes a
difference."
"What I say is, let every man carry his own bag. This is a rotten
business, John. I don't wish to be anything but polite, but for a
silly ass commend me to the owner of that brown thing."
John took no notice and went on packing.
"I shall buy a collar in the town," he said.
"Better let me do it for you. You would only go getting an
invitation to a garden-party from the haberdasher. And that would
mean another eight miles with a portmanteau."
"There we are," said John, as he closed the bag, "quite small and
light. Now, who'll take the first hour?"
"We'd better toss, if you're quite sure you won't carry it all the
way. Tails. Just my luck."
John looked out of the window and then at his watch.
"They say two to three is the hottest hour of the day," he said. "It
will be cooler later on. I shall put you in."
I led the way up the cliffs with that wretched bag. I insisted upon
that condition anyhow--that the man with the bag should lead the
way. I wasn't going to have John dashing off at six miles an hour,
and leaving himself only two miles at the end.
"But you can come and talk to me," I said to him after ten minutes
of it. "I only meant that I was going to set the pace."
"No, no, I like watching you. You do it so gracefully. This is my
man," he explained to some children who were blackberrying. "He is
just carrying my bag over the cliffs for me. No, he is not very
strong."
"You wait," I growled.
John laughed. "Fifty minutes more," he said. And then after a little
silence, "I think the bag-carrying profession is overrated. What
made you take it up, my lad? The drink? Ah, just so. Dear, dear,
what a lesson to all of us."
"There's a good time coming," I murmured to myself, and changed
hands for the eighth time.
"I don't care what people say," said John, argumentatively; "brown
and blue DO go together. If you wouldn't mind--"
For the tenth time I rammed the sharp corner of the bag into the
back of my knee.
"There, that's what I mean. You see it perfectly like that--the
brown against the blue of the flannel. Thank you very much."
I stumbled up a steep little bit of slippery grass, and told myself
that in three-quarters of an hour I would get some of my own back
again. He little knew how heavy that bag could become.
"They say," said John to the heavens, "that if you have weights in
your hands you can jump these little eminences much more easily. I
suppose one hand alone doesn't do. What a pity he didn't tell me
before--I would have lent him another bag with pleasure."
"Nobody likes blackberries more than I do," said John. "But even I
would hesitate to come out here on a hot afternoon and fill a great
brown bag with blackberries, and then carry them eight miles home.
Besides, it looks rather greedy.... I beg your pardon, my lad, I
didn't understand. You are taking them home to your aged mother? Of
course, of course. Very commendable. If I had a penny, I would lend
it to you. No, I only have a sixpence on me, and I have to give that
to the little fellow who is carrying my bag over the cliffs for
me.... Yes, I picked him up about a couple of miles back. He has mud
all up his trousers, I know."
"Half an hour more," I told myself, and went on doggedly, my right
shoulder on fire.
"Dear, dear," he said solicitously, "how lopsided the youth of
to-day is getting. Too much lawn-tennis, I suppose. How much better
the simply healthy exercises of our forefathers; the weightlifting
after lunch, the--"
He was silent for ten minutes, and then broke out rapturously once
more.
"What a heavenly day! I AM glad we didn't bring a bag--it would have
spoilt it altogether. We can easily borrow some slippers, and it
will be jolly walking back by moonlight. Now, if you had had your
way--"
"One minute more," I said joyfully; "and oh, my boy, how glad I am
we brought a bag. What a splendid idea of yours! By the way, you
haven't said much lately. A little tired by the walk?"
"I make it TWO minutes," said John.
"Half a minute now.... There! And may I never carry the confounded
thing another yard."
I threw the bag down and fell upon the grass. The bag rolled a yard
or two away. Then it rolled another yard, slipped over the edge, and
started bouncing down the cliff. Finally it leapt away from the
earth altogether, and dropped two hundred feet into the sea.
"MY bag," said John stupidly.
And that did for me altogether.
"I don't care a hang about your bag," I cried. "And I don't care a
hang if I've lost my pyjamas and my best shoes and my only razor.
And I've been through an hour's torture for nothing, and I don't
mind that. But oh!--to think that you aren't going to have YOUR
hour--"
"By Jove, neither I am," said John, and he sat down and roared with
laughter.