“No, Jacob; too soon, too soon,” said David, when the guinea had been tasted.  “Give it me; we’ll go and bury it somewhere else; we’ll put it in yonder,” he added, pointing vaguely toward the distance.

David screwed on the lid, while Jacob, looking grave, rose and grasped his pitchfork.  Then, seeing David’s bundle, he snatched it, like a too officious Newfoundland, stuck his pitchfork into it and carried it over his shoulder in triumph as he accompanied David and the box out of the thicket.

What on earth was David to do?  It would have been easy to frown at Jacob, and kick him, and order him to get away; but David dared as soon have kicked the bull.  Jacob was quiet as long as he was treated indulgently; but on the slightest show of anger, he became unmanageable, and was liable to fits of fury which would have made him formidable even without his pitchfork.  There was no mastery to be obtained over him except by kindness or guile.  David tried guile.

“Go, Jacob,” he said, when they were out of the thicket—­pointing towards the house as he spoke; “go and fetch me a spade—­a spade.  But give me the bundle,” he added, trying to reach it from the fork, where it hung high above Jacob’s tall shoulder.

But Jacob showed as much alacrity in obeying as a wasp shows in leaving a sugar-basin.  Near David, he felt himself in the vicinity of lozenges:  he chuckled and rubbed his brother’s back, brandishing the bundle higher out of reach.  David, with an inward groan, changed his tactics, and walked on as fast as he could.  It was not safe to linger.  Jacob would get tired of following him, or, at all events, could be eluded.  If they could once get to the distant highroad, a coach would overtake them, David would mount it, having previously by some ingenious means secured his bundle, and then Jacob might howl and flourish his pitchfork as much as he liked.  Meanwhile he was under the fatal necessity of being very kind to this ogre, and of providing a large breakfast for him when they stopped at a roadside inn.  It was already three hours since they had started, and David was tired.  Would no coach be coming up soon? he inquired.  No coach for the next two hours.  But there was a carrier’s cart to come immediately, on its way to the next town.  If he could slip out, even leaving his bundle behind, and get into the cart without Jacob!  But there was a new obstacle.  Jacob had recently discovered a remnant of sugar-candy in one of his brother’s tail-pockets; and, since then, had cautiously kept his hold on that limb of the garment, perhaps with an expectation that there would be a further development of sugar-candy after a longer or shorter interval.  Now every one who has worn a coat will understand the sensibilities that must keep a man from starting away in a hurry when there is a grasp on his coat-tail.  David looked forward to being well received among strangers, but it might make a difference if he had only one tail to his coat.