England -- Fiction; Humorous stories; Male friendship -- Fiction; Men -- Societies and clubs -- Fiction
‘We’re sure to catch them, I think,’ said he.
‘Hope so,’ replied his companion.
‘Fine night,’ said Mr. Pickwick, looking up at the moon, which was
shining brightly.
‘So much the worse,’ returned Wardle; ‘for they’ll have had all the
advantage of the moonlight to get the start of us, and we shall lose it.
It will have gone down in another hour.’
‘It will be rather unpleasant going at this rate in the dark, won’t it?’
inquired Mr. Pickwick.
‘I dare say it will,’ replied his friend dryly.
Mr. Pickwick’s temporary excitement began to sober down a little, as he
reflected upon the inconveniences and dangers of the expedition in which
he had so thoughtlessly embarked. He was roused by a loud shouting of
the post-boy on the leader.
‘Yo-yo-yo-yo-yoe!’ went the first boy.
‘Yo-yo-yo-yoe!’ went the second.
‘Yo-yo-yo-yoe!’ chimed in old Wardle himself, most lustily, with his
head and half his body out of the coach window.
‘Yo-yo-yo-yoe!’ shouted Mr. Pickwick, taking up the burden of the cry,
though he had not the slightest notion of its meaning or object. And
amidst the yo-yoing of the whole four, the chaise stopped.
‘What’s the matter?’ inquired Mr. Pickwick.
‘There’s a gate here,’ replied old Wardle. ‘We shall hear something of
the fugitives.’
After a lapse of five minutes, consumed in incessant knocking and
shouting, an old man in his shirt and trousers emerged from the
turnpike-house, and opened the gate.
‘How long is it since a post-chaise went through here?’ inquired Mr.
Wardle.
‘How long?’
‘Ah!’
‘Why, I don’t rightly know. It worn’t a long time ago, nor it worn’t a
short time ago--just between the two, perhaps.’
‘Has any chaise been by at all?’
‘Oh, yes, there’s been a chay by.’
‘How long ago, my friend,’ interposed Mr. Pickwick; ‘an hour?’
‘Ah, I dare say it might be,’ replied the man.
‘Or two hours?’ inquired the post--boy on the wheeler.
‘Well, I shouldn’t wonder if it was,’ returned the old man doubtfully.
‘Drive on, boys,’ cried the testy old gentleman; ‘don’t waste any more
time with that old idiot!’
‘Idiot!’ exclaimed the old man with a grin, as he stood in the middle of
the road with the gate half-closed, watching the chaise which rapidly
diminished in the increasing distance. ‘No--not much o’ that either;
you’ve lost ten minutes here, and gone away as wise as you came, arter
all. If every man on the line as has a guinea give him, earns it half as
well, you won’t catch t’other chay this side Mich’lmas, old short-and-
fat.’ And with another prolonged grin, the old man closed the gate, re-
entered his house, and bolted the door after him.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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