"
Swearing, and vowing vengeance on Jem Lyn, and Garry, and the Teachmans
--each one of whom, by the way, was sound asleep during this pleasant
interlude--and shaking with the cold, and sputtering with uncontrollable
fury, the fat man did at length get dressed, and after two or three
libations of milk punch, recovered his temper somewhat, and his spirits
altogether.
Although, however, Harry and I told him very frankly that we were not
merely the sole planners, but the sole executors, of the trick--it was
in vain we spoke. Tom would not have it.
"No--he knew--he knew well enough; did we go for to think he was such an
old etarnal fool as not to know Jem's voice--a bloody Decker--he would
be the death of him."
And direful, in good truth, I do believe, were the jokes practical, and
to him no jokes at all, which poor Jem had to undergo, in expiation of
his fancied share in this our misdemeanor.
Scarce had the row subsided, before the horses were announced. Harry and
I, and Tom and Timothy, mounted the old green drag; and, with our
cheroots lighted--the only lights, by the way, that were visible at all
--off we went at a rattling trot, the horses in prime condition, full of
fire, biting and snapping at each other, and making their bits clash and
jingle every moment.
Pages:
127
128
129
130
131
132
133
134
135
136
137
138
139
140
141
142
143
144
145
146
147
148
149
150
151