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"But this--this is an outrage!" spluttered the fussy gentleuard blind in one eye! Scandalous! I shall write to the papers

of this But you--surely you carry a weapon too?"

"A vepping? Ay, to be sure, sir, I've got a blunder-bush, under this

'ere werry seat, loaded up to the o off"

"Won't--eh, what? Won't go off?"

"Not on no account, sir, vich ain't to be 'spected of it, seeing as

it ain't got no trigger"

"But--heaven preserve us! why carry such a useless thing?"

"Force of 'abit, sir; ye see, I've carried that theer old

blunderbush for a matter of five-an'-twenty year, an' my feyther 'e

carried it afore s to re-,

like my feyther afore me Brave as a lion were my feyther, sir, an'

bred up to the road; v'y, Lord! 'e were born vith a coachht say; an' 'e were the

boldest--"

"But what's your father got to do with it?" cried the fussy gentleman

"What aboutto that;" and here, once more,

Mottle-face sloinked his owl-like eye at Barnabas "My feyther,