The boys applied whip and spur, the waiters shouted, the hostlers cheered, and away they went, fast and furiously.
"Pretty situation," thought Mr.Pickwick, when he had had a moment's time for reflection."Pretty situation for the General Chairman of the Pickwick Club.Damp chaise--strange horses--fifteen miles an hour--and twelve o'clock at night!"For the first three or four miles, not a word was spoken by either of the gentlemen, each being too much immersed in his own reflections to address any observations to his companion.When they had gone over that much ground, however, and the horses getting thoroughly warmed began to do their work in really good style, Mr.Pickwick became too much exhilarated with the rapidity of the motion, to remain any longer perfectly mute.
"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 daresay it will," replied his friend drily.
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 shay by."
"How long ago, my friend," interposed Mr.Pickwick, "an hour?""Ah, I daresay 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 shay 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.
Meanwhile the chaise proceeded, without any slackening of pace, towards the conclusion of the stage.The moon, as Wardle had foretold, was rapidly on the wane; large tiers of dark heavy clouds, which had been gradually overspreading the sky for some time past, now formed one black mass overhead;and large drops of rain which pattered every now and then against the windows of the chaise, seemed to warn the travellers of the rapid approach of a stormy night.The wind, too, which was directly against them, swept in furious gusts down the narrow road, and howled dismally through the trees which skirted the pathway.Mr.Pickwick drew his coat closer about him, coiled himself more snugly up into the corner of the chaise, and fell into a sound sleep, from which he was only awakened by the stopping of the vehicle, the sound of the hostler's bell, and a loud cry of "Horses on directly!"But here another delay occurred.The boys were sleeping with such mysterious soundness, that it took five minutes a-piece to wake them.The hostler had somehow or other mislaid the key of the stable, and even when that was found, two sleepy helpers put the wrong harness on the wrong horses, and the whole process of harnessing had to be gone through afresh.Had Mr.Pickwick been alone, these multiplied obstacles would have completely put an end to the pursuit at once, but old Wardle was not to be so easily daunted; and he laid about him with such hearty good-will, cuffing this man, and pushing that; strapping a buckle here, and taking in a link there, that the chaise was ready in a much shorter time than could reasonably have been expected, under so many difficulties.
They resumed their journey; and certainly the prospect before them was by no means encouraging.The stage was fifteen miles long, the night was dark, the wind high, and the rain pouring in torrents.It was impossible to make any great way against such obstacles united: it was hard upon one o'clock already; and nearly two hours were consumed in getting to the end of the stage.Here, however, an object presented itself, which rekindled their hopes, and re-animated their dropping spirits.
"When did this chaise come in?" cried old Wardle, leaping out of his own vehicle, and pointing to one covered with wet mud, which was standing in the yard.
"Not a quarter of an hour ago, sir;" replied the hostler, to whom the question was addressed.
"Lady and gentleman?" inquired Wardle, almost breathless with impatience.
"Yes, sir."
"Tall gentleman--dress coat--long legs--thin body?""Yes, sir."
"Elderly lady--thin face--rather skinny--eh?""Yes, sir."
