Pickwick and his friends were stationed.
Man is but mortal; and there is a point beyond which human
courage cannot extend. Mr. Pickwick gazed through his spectacles
for an instant on the advancing mass, and then fairly turned his
back and--we will not say fled; firstly, because it is an ignoble
term, and, secondly, because Mr. Pickwick's figure was by no
means adapted for that mode of retreat--he trotted away, at as
quick a rate as his legs would convey him; so quickly, indeed,
that he did not perceive the awkwardness of his situation, to the
full extent, until too late.
The opposite troops, whose falling-in had perplexed Mr.
Pickwick a few seconds before, were drawn up to repel the mimic
attack of the sham besiegers of the citadel; and the consequence
was that Mr. Pickwick and his two companions found themselves
suddenly inclosed between two lines of great length, the one
advancing at a rapid pace, and the other firmly waiting the
collision in hostile array.
'Hoi!' shouted the officers of the advancing line.
'Get out of the way!' cried the officers of the stationary one.
'Where are we to go to?' screamed the agitated Pickwickians.
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