. ." on and on without ceasing, and
still I toiled and sweated.
By noon the hut was clean, at any rate tolerably clean; but its
soaked floor would certainly take many hours in drying, and Nat must
spend another night under the open sky. I left the hut, snatched a
meal of bread and cheese, and, after a pull at the wine flask, turned
my attention to the sty. To cleanse it before nightfall was out of
the question. I examined it and saw three good days' labour ahead of
me. But the palisading could be repaired and made secure after a
fashion, and I started upon it at once, sharpening the rotten posts
with my axe, driving, fixing, nailing, binding them firmly with
osier-twists, of which I had fetched a fresh supply from the
stream-side. I had rolled my jacket into a pillow for Nat, that he
might lie easily and watch me.
The sun was sinking beyond the mountain, staining with deep rose the
pinnacles of granite that soared eastward above the pines, when a
horn sounded on the slope and Marc'antonio came down the track
driving the hogs before him. He instructed me good-naturedly enough
in the art of penning the brutes, breaking off from time to time to
compliment me on my labours, the sum of which appeared to affect him
with a degree of wonder not far short of awe.
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