Lay it flat," cried Old Brownsmith, whose eye was educated by years of experience, and I stood back behind the cart, listening curiously to the conversation.

"Yes, you're too heavy behind." "No, no, she's 'bout right, master," growled Ike, "right as can be.
Just you look here." He took a step back over the baskets, and I heard the prop that supported the cart fall, as Ike yelled out--"Run, boy, run!" I did not run, for two reasons.

Firstly, I was too much confused to understand my danger.

Secondly, I had not time, for in spite of Ike's insistence that the balance was correct the shafts flew up; Ike threw himself down on the baskets, and the top layer of flat round sieves that had not yet been tied like the barges, came gliding off like a landslip, and before I knew where I was, I felt myself stricken down, half buried by the wicker avalanche, and all was blank..