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"But dash it all," said the Pilgrim, "me and my mate ----"

"Hush!" said the publican.



"How long are the horses likely to be?" we asked the driver.

"Dunno," he grunted. "Might be three or four hours. It's all accordin'."



"Now, look here," said the Pilgrim, "me and my mate wanter catch the train."

"Hush-sh-sh!" from the publican in a fierce whisper.



"Well, boss," said the joker, "can you let us have beds, then?

I don't want to freeze here all night, anyway."



"Yes," said the landlord, "I can do that, but some of you

will have to sleep double and some of you'll have to take it out of the sofas,



and one or two 'll have to make a shakedown on the floor.

There's plenty of bags in the stable, and you've got rugs and coats with you.



Fix it up amongst yourselves."

"But look here!" interrupted the Pilgrim, desperately,



"we can't afford to wait! We're only `battlers', me and my mate,

pickin' up crumbs by the wayside. We've got to catch the ----"



"Hush!" said the publican, savagely" target="_blank" title="ad.野蛮地;原始地">savagely. "You fool, didn't I tell you

my missus was bad? I won't have any noise."



"But look here," protested the Pilgrim, "we must catch the train

at Dead Camel ----"



"You'll catch my boot presently," said the publican, with a savage oath,

"and go further than Dead Camel. I won't have my missus disturbed



for you or any other man! Just you shut up or get out,

and take your blooming mate with you."



We lost patience with the Pilgrim and sternly took him aside.

"Now, for God's sake, hold your jaw," we said. "Haven't you got



any consideration at all? Can't you see the man's wife is ill

-- dying perhaps -- and he nearly worried off his head?"



The Pilgrim and his mate were scraggy little bipeds of the city push variety,

so they were suppressed.



"Well," yawned the joker, "I'm not going to roost on a stump all night.

I'm going to turn in."



"It'll be eighteenpence each," hinted the landlord. "You can settle now

if you like to save time."



We took the hint, and had another drink. I don't know

how we "fixed it up amongst ourselves," but we got settled down somehow.



There was a lot of mysterious whispering and scuffling round

by the light of a couple of dirty greasy bits of candle.



Fortunately we dared not speak loud enough to have a row,

though most of us were by this time in the humour to pick a quarrel



with a long-lost brother.

The Joker got the best bed, as good-humoured, good-natured chaps generally do,



without seeming to try for it. The growler of the party

got the floor and chaff bags, as selfish men mostly do --



without seeming to try for it either. I took it out of one of the "sofas",

or rather that sofa took it out of me. It was short and narrow



and down by the head, with a leaning to one corner on the outside,

and had more nails and bits of gin-case than original sofa in it.



I had been asleep for three seconds, it seemed, when somebody

shook me by the shoulder and said:



"Take yer seats."

When I got out, the driver was on the box, and the others



were getting rum and milk inside themselves (and in bottles)

before taking their seats.



It was colder and darker than before, and the South Pole seemed nearer,

and pretty soon, but for the rum, we should have been in a worse fix



than before.

There was a spell of grumbling. Presently someone said:



"I don't believe them horses was lost at all. I was round behind the stable

before I went to bed, and seen horses there; and if they wasn't



them same horses there, I'll eat 'em raw!"

"Would yer?" said the driver, in a disinterested tone.



"I would," said the passenger. Then, with a sudden ferocity, "and you too!"

The driver said nothing. It was an abstract question



which didn't interest him.

We saw that we were on delicate ground, and changed the subject for a while.



Then someone else said:

"I wonder where his missus was? I didn't see any signs of her about,



or any other woman about the place, and we was pretty well all over it."

"Must have kept her in the stable," suggested the Joker.



"No, she wasn't, for Scotty and that chap on the roof was there after bags."

"She might have been in the loft," reflected the Joker.



"There was no loft," put in a voice from the top of the coach.

"I say, Mister -- Mister man," said the Joker suddenly to the driver,






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