'Bravo, old fellow!' said Wardle to Mr. Tupman; 'you fired
that time, at all events.'
'Oh, yes,' replied Mr. Tupman, with conscious pride. 'I let it off.'
'Well done. You'll hit something next time, if you look sharp.
Very easy, ain't it?'
'Yes, it's very easy,' said Mr. Tupman. 'How it hurts one's
shoulder, though. It nearly knocked me backwards. I had no idea
these small firearms kicked so.'
'Ah,' said the old gentleman, smiling, 'you'll get used to it in
time. Now then--all ready--all right with the barrow there?'
'All right, Sir,' replied Mr. Weller.
'Come along, then.'
'Hold hard, Sir,' said Sam, raising the barrow.
'Aye, aye,' replied Mr. Pickwick; and on they went, as briskly
as need be.
'Keep that barrow back now,' cried Wardle, when it had been
hoisted over a stile into another field, and Mr. Pickwick had been
deposited in it once more.
'All right, sir,' replied Mr. Weller, pausing.
'Now, Winkle,' said the old gentleman, 'follow me softly, and
don't be too late this time.'
'Never fear,' said Mr. Winkle. 'Are they pointing?'
'No, no; not now. Quietly now, quietly.' On they crept, and
very quietly they would have advanced, if Mr.
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