"An' presently 'e came to vere the road narrered a bit, same as it
might be yonder--"
"Ah!" murmured the fussy gentleman again.
"An' vith a clump o' trees beyond, nice, dark, shady trees--like it
might be them werry trees ahead of us--"
"Oh!" exclaimed the fussy gentleman.
"An' as 'e come up nearer an' nearer, all at vunce 'e made out a
shadder in the shade o' them trees--"
"Dear me!" exclaimed the fussy gentleman uneasily, staring very hard
at the trees in front.
"A shadder as moved, although the leaves vos all dead still. So my
feyther--being a bold cove--reached down for 'is blunderbush--this
werry same old blunderbush as I 've got under the box at this
i-dentical minute, (though its trigger veren't broke then) but,
afore 'e can get it out, into the road leaps a man on a great black
'oss--like it might be dead ahead of us, a masked man, an' vith a
pistol in each fist as long as yer arm."
"Good Lord!" exclaimed the fussy gentleman.
"'Stand an' deliver!' roars the masked man, so my feyther, cocking
'is heye at the pistols, pulls up, an' there 'e is, starin' down at
the 'ighvayman, an' the 'ighvayman staring up at 'im.
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