‘Why, damn their audacity, so they have,’ said Captain Boldwig, as the crumbs and fragments that were strewn upon the grass met his eye. ‘They have actually been devouring their food here. I wish I had the vagabonds here!’ said the captain, clenching the thick stick. ‘I wish I had the vagabonds here,’ said the captain wrathfully. ‘Beg your pardon, sir,’ said Wilkins, ‘but--’ ‘But what? Eh?’ roared the captain; and following the timid glance of Wilkins, his eyes encountered the wheel-barrow and Mr. Pickwick. ‘Who are you, you rascal?’ said the captain, administering several pokes to Mr. Pickwick’s body with the thick stick. ‘What’s your name?’ ‘Cold punch,’ murmured Mr. Pickwick, as he sank to sleep again. ‘What?’ demanded Captain Boldwig. No reply. ‘What did he say his name was?’ asked the captain. ‘Punch, I think, sir,’ replied Wilkins. ‘That’s his impudence--that’s his confounded impudence,’ said Captain Boldwig. ‘He’s only feigning to be asleep now,’ said the captain, in a high passion. ‘He’s drunk; he’s a drunken plebeian. Wheel him away, Wilkins, wheel him away directly.’ Where shall I wheel him to, sir?’ inquired Wilkins, with great timidity. ‘Wheel him to the devil,’ replied Captain Boldwig. ‘Very well, sir,’ said Wilkins. ‘Stay,’ said the captain. Wilkins stopped accordingly. ‘Wheel him,’ said the captain--‘wheel him to the pound; and let us see whether he calls himself Punch when he comes to himself. He shall not bully me--he shall not bully me. Wheel him away.’ Away Mr. Pickwick was wheeled in compliance with this imperious mandate; and the great Captain Boldwig, swelling with indignation, proceeded on his walk. Inexpressible was the astonishment of the little party when they returned, to find that Mr. Pickwick had disappeared, and taken the wheel-barrow with him. It was the most mysterious and unaccountable thing that was ever heard of. For a lame man to have got upon his legs without any previous notice, and walked off, would have been most extraordinary; but when it came to his wheeling a heavy barrow before him, by way of amusement, it grew positively miraculous. They searched every nook and corner round, together and separately; they shouted, whistled, laughed, called--and all with the same result. Mr. Pickwick was not to be found. After some hours of fruitless search, they arrived at the unwelcome conclusion that they must go home without him. Meanwhile Mr. Pickwick had been wheeled to the Pound, and safely deposited therein, fast asleep in the wheel-barrow, to the immeasurable delight and satisfaction not only of all the boys in the village, but three-fourths of the whole population, who had gathered round, in expectation of his waking. If their most intense gratification had been awakened by seeing him wheeled in, how many hundredfold was their joy increased when, after a few indistinct cries of ‘Sam!’ he sat up in the barrow, and gazed with indescribable astonishment on the faces before him.