THE IMCKWICK CLUB. 47
" What can he mean by this?" said Mr. Snodgrass, when the horse had executed this manoeuvre for the twentieth time.
" I don't know," replied IMr, Tupman ; " it looks very like shying, don't it ?'* Mr. Snodgrass was about to reply, when he was interrupted by a shout from Mr. Pickwick.
" Woo," said that gentleman, " I have dropped my whip."
" Winkle," cried Mr. Snodgrass, as the equestrian came trotting up on the tall horse, with his hat over his ears: and shaking all over, as if he would shake to pieces, with the violence of the exercise. " Pick up the whip, there's a good fellow." Mr. Winkle pulled at the bridle of the tall horse till he was black in the face ; and having at length suc- ceeded in stopping him, dismounted, handed the whip to Mr. Pickwick, and grasping the reins, prepared to remount.
Now whether the tall horse, in the natural playfulness of his dispo- sition, was desirous of having a little innocent recreation with Mr. Winkle, or whether it occurred to him that he could perform the journey as much to his own satisfaction without a rider as with one, are points upon which, of course, we can arrive at no definite and distinct conclusion. By whatever motives the animal was actuated, certain it is that Mr. Winkle had no sooner touched the reins, than he slipped them over his head, and darted backwards to their full length.
" Poor fellow," said Mr. Winkle, soothingly, — " poor fellow — good old horse." The "poor fellow" was proof against flattery: the more Mr. Winkle tried to get nearer him, the more he sidled away ; and, notwitlistanding all kinds of coaxing and wheedling, there were Mr. Winkle and the horse going round and round each other for ten minutes, at the end of which time each was at precisely the same distance from the other as when they first commenced — an unsatisfactory sort of thing under any circumstances, but particularly so in a lonely road, where no assistance can be procured.
"What am I to do?" shouted Mr. Winkle, after the dodging had been prolonged for a considerable time. " What am I to do ? I can't get on him?"
" Ypu had better lead him till we come to a turnpike," replied Mr. Pickwick from the chaise.
" But he won't come," roared Mr. Winkle. " Do come, and hold him."
Mr. Pickwick was the very personation of kindness and humanity : he threw the reins on the horse's back, and having descended from his seat, carefully drew the chaise into the hedge, lest anything should come along the road, and stepped back to the assistance of his dis- tressed companion, leaving Mr. Tupman and Mr. Snodgrass in the vehicle.
The horse no sooner beheld Mr. Pickwick advancing towards him, with the chaise whip in his hand, than he exchanged the rotary motion in which he had previously indulged, for a retrogade movement of so very determined a character, that it at once drew Mr. Winkle, who was still at the end of the bridle, at a rather quicker rate than fast walking, in the direction from which they had just come. Mr. Pickwick ran to his assistance, but the faster Mr. Pickwick ran forward, the faster th«
