It certainly, as might be expected, did waken Jumbo, who uncoiled himself, rubbed his eyes, stared at the tilt of the waggon, then at us, and without saying a word, rolled himself out after the fool. Timothy and I followed. We found the doctor bargaining for some bread and bacon, his strange appearance exciting much amusement, and inducing the people to let him have a better bargain than perhaps otherwise they would have done. He gave a part of the refreshment to the boy and the fool, and walked out of the tap-room with his own share. Timothy and I went to the pump, and had a good refreshing wash, and then for a shilling were permitted to make a very hearty breakfast. The waggon having remained about an hour, the driver gave as notice of his departure; but the doctor was nowhere to be found. After a little delay, the waggoner drove off, cursing him for a _bilk_, and vowing that he'd never have any more to do with a "lamed man." In the mean time Timothy and I had taken our seats in the waggon, in company with the fool, and Master Jumbo. We commenced a conversation with the former, and soon found out, as the doctor had asserted, that he really was an idiot, so much so that it was painful to converse with him. As for the latter, he had coiled himself away to take a little more sleep. I forgot to mention, that the boy was dressed much in the same way as the fool, in an old spangled jacket, and dirty white trowsers. For about an hour Timothy and I conversed, remarking upon the strange disappearance of the doctor, especially as he had given us hopes of employing us; in accepting which offer, if ever it should be made, we had not made up our minds, when we were interrupted with a voice crying out, "Hillo, my man, can you give a chap a lift as far as Reading, for a shilling?" "Ay, get up, and welcome," replied the waggoner. The waggon did not stop, but in a moment or two the new passenger climbed in. He was dressed in a clean smock frock, neatly worked up the front, leather gaiters, and stout shoes; a bundle and a stick were in his hand. He smiled as he looked round upon the company, and showed a beautiful set of teeth. His face was dark, and sun-burnt, but very handsome, and his eyes as black as coals, and as brilliant as gas. "Heh! player folk--I've a notion," said he, as he sat down, looking at the doctor's attendants, and laughing at us. "Have you come far, gentlemen?" continued he. "From London," was my reply. "How do the crops look up above, for down here the turnips seem to have failed altogether? Dry seasons won't do for turnips." I replied that I really could not satisfy him on that point, as it was dark when we passed. "Very true--I had forgotten that," replied he. "However, the barleys look well; but perhaps you don't understand farming?" I replied in the negative and the conversation was kept up for two or three hours, in the course of which I mentioned the quack doctor, and his strange departure.