Page:Ragged Trousered Philanthropists.djvu/110

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The Ragged Trousered Philanthropists


a certain lamp-post or street corner as the next stopping place, and when he started again the goal ahead stimulated his strenuous and desperate efforts.

Very often the object he selected was too far away, for he usually overestimated his strength, and whenever he was forced to give in he ran the truck against the kerb, and stood there panting for breath and feeling profoundly disappointed at his failure.

During one of these rests, it flashed upon him that he was being a very long time; he would have to buck up or he would get into a row; he was not even half way up the road yet!

Selecting a distant lamp-post, he determined to reach it before resting again.

The cart had a single shaft with a cross piece at the end, forming the handle. He gripped this fiercely with both hands and placing his chest against it, with a mighty effort he pushed it along before him.

It seemed to get heavier and heavier every foot of the way. His whole body, but especially the thighs and the calves of his legs, ached terribly, but still he strained and struggled and said to himself that he would not give in until he reached the lamp-post.

Finding that the handle hurt his chest he lowered it to his waist, but as that was even more painful he raised it again to his chest, and struggled savagely on, panting for breath and with his heart beating wildly.

The cart became heavier and heavier. After a while it seemed to the boy as if there were someone at the front of it trying to push him back down the hill. This was such a funny idea that for a moment he felt inclined to laugh, but the inclination went almost as soon as it came and was replaced by the dread that he would not be able to hold out long enough to reach the lamp-post after all. Clenching his teeth he made a tremendous effort and staggered forward two or three more steps and then—the cart stopped. He struggled with it despairingly for a few seconds but all the strength had suddenly gone out of him: his legs felt so weak that he nearly collapsed to the ground, and the cart began to move backwards down the hill. He was just able to stick to it and guide it so that it ran into and rested against the kerb, and then he stood holding it in a half dazed way, pale, trembling, and saturated with sweat,

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