Pickwick thrust his head out of his window. Yes: there
was a chaise-and-four, a short distance before them, dashing
along at full gallop.
'Go on, go on,' almost shrieked the old gentleman. 'Two
guineas a-piece, boys--don't let 'em gain on us--keep it up--
keep it up.'
The horses in the first chaise started on at their utmost speed;
and those in Mr. Wardle's galloped furiously behind them.
'I see his head,' exclaimed the choleric old man; 'damme, I see
his head.'
'So do I' said Mr. Pickwick; 'that's he.'
Mr. Pickwick was not mistaken. The countenance of Mr. Jingle,
completely coated with mud thrown up by the wheels, was plainly
discernible at the window of his chaise; and the motion of his arm,
which was waving violently towards the postillions, denoted that
he was encouraging them to increased exertion.
The interest was intense. Fields, trees, and hedges, seemed to
rush past them with the velocity of a whirlwind, so rapid was the
pace at which they tore along. They were close by the side of the
first chaise. Jingle's voice could be plainly heard, even above the
din of the wheels, urging on the boys. Old Mr. Wardle foamed
with rage and excitement.
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