"Never mind," replied his companion, "it will soon be over. Steady, steady."
Mr. Pickwick planted himself into his own corner, as firmly as he could; and on whirled the chaise faster than ever.
They had travelled in this way about three miles, when Mr. Wardle, who had been looking out of the window for two or three minutes, suddenly drew in his face, covered with splashes, and exclaimed in breathless eagerness—
"Here they are!"
Mr. 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 the mud thrown up by the wheels, was plainly discernible at the window of his chaise; and the motion of his arm, which he was waving violently towards the postilions, 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. He roared out scoundrels and villains by the dozen, clenched his fist and shook it expressively at the object of his indignation; but Mr. Jingle only answered with a contemptuous smile,
