醉小说

第5章（第2页）

hand on the arm-chest before him, where a loaded blunderbuss

lay at the top of six or eight loaded horse-pistols, deposited on a

substratum of cutlass.

The Dover mail was in its usual genial position that the guard

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suspected the passengers, the passengers suspected one another

and the guard, they all suspected everybody else, and the

coachman was sure of nothing but the horses; as to which cattle he

could with a clear conscience have taken his oath on the two

Testaments that they were not fit for the journey.

“Wo-ho!” said the coachman. “So, then! One more pull and

you’re at the top and be damned to you, for I have had trouble

enough to get you to it!Joe!”

“Halloa!” the guard replied.

“What o’clock do you make it, Joe?”

“Ten minutes, good, past eleven.”

“My blood!” ejaculated the vexed coachman, “and not atop of

Shooter’s yet! Tst! Yah! Get on with you!”