brake was jammed. They poked and pulled, and the keeper took off his gun and
his coat once more. And now Clifford said never a word. At last the keeper
heaved the back of the chair off the ground and, with an instantaneous push
of his foot, tried to loosen the wheels. He failed, the chair sank. Clifford
was clutching the sides. The man gasped with the weight.
`Don't do it!' cried Connie to him.
`If you'll pull the wheel that way, so!' he said to her, showing her
how.
`No! You mustn't lift it! You'll strain yourself,' she said, flushed
now with anger.
But he looked into her eyes and nodded. And she had to go and take hold
of the wheel, ready. He heaved and she tugged, and the chair reeled.
`For God's sake!' cried Clifford in terror.
But it was all right, and the brake was off. The keeper put a stone
under the wheel, and went to sit on the bank, his heart beat and his face
white with the effort, semi-conscious.
Connie looked at him, and almost cried with anger. There was a pause
and a dead silence. She saw his hands trembling on his thighs.
`Have you hurt yourself?' she asked, going to him.
`No. No!' He turned away almost angrily.
There was dead silence. The back of Clifford's fair head did not move.
Even the dog stood motionless. The sky had clouded over.
At last he sighed, and blew his nose on his red handkerchief.
`That pneumonia took a lot out of me,' he said.
No one answered. Connie calculated the amount of strength it must have
taken to heave up that chair and the bulky Clifford: too much, far too much!
If it hadn't killed him!
He rose, and again picked up his coat, slinging it through the handle
of the chair.
`Are you ready, then, Sir Clifford?'
`When you are!'
He stooped and took out the scotch, then put his weight against the
chair. He was paler than Connie had ever seen him: and more absent. Clifford
was a heavy man: and the hill was steep. Connie stepped to the keeper's
side.
`I'm going to push too!' she said.
And she began to shove with a woman's turbulent energy of anger. The
chair went faster. Clifford looked round.
`Is that necessary?' he said.
`Very! Do you want to kill the man! If you'd let the motor work while
it would---'
But she did not finish. She was already panting. She slackened off a
little, for it was surprisingly hard work.
`Ay! slower!' said the man at her side, with a faint smile of his eyes.
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