Now--lead on."
"It has never been done," said the little brown man with obstinacy,
"you will lose your reason, adon."
"Ah well now, if we do," said St. George, "pitch us over and leave
us. Besides, I think we have. Lead on, please."
Against the will of the others, he prevailed. The light oil-skins
were placed in the baskets, each of which was shouldered by two men,
Jarvo bearing the foremost pole of St. George's palanquin. All the
carriers had drawn on long, soft shoes which, perhaps from some
preparation in which they had been dipped, glowed with light,
illuminating the ground for a little distance at every step.
"Are you ready, adon?" asked Jarvo and Akko at the same moment.
"Ready!" cried St. George impatiently.
"Ready," said Amory languidly, and added one thought more: "I hope
for Chillingworth's sake," he said, "that Frothingham is a notary
public. We'll have to have somebody's seal at the bottom of all this
copy."
The baskets were lightly lifted. Jarvo gave a sharp command, and all
four of the men broke into a rhythmic chant.
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