ward with such
satisfaction had certainly not come off as I expected. And it was not
_yet_ over, for the drive home under the conduct of Mr Whipcord
promised to be the most exciting portion of the whole day.

As long as we were in the country roads the unsteadiness of our Jehu did
not so much matter, for he was sober enough to keep the horse upon the
road, though hardly fit to steer him past other vehicles. However, it
was marvellous how we did get on. What hairbreadth escapes we had! It
was useless attempting to remonstrate with the fellow. He was in that
quarrelsome and mischievous humour which would brook no protest. Once,
very soon after starting, in passing a country cart we as nearly as
possible upset against it, a misadventure which Whipcord immediately set
down as a deliberate insult intended for himself, and which nothing
would satisfy him but to avenge then and there.

He leaped down off the dogcart, heedless of what became of the horse,
and, throwing off his coat, shouted to the countryman to "Come on!" an
invitation which the countryman answered with a crack of his whip which
made the doughty hero leap as high into the air as he had ever done in
his life.

As might be expected, this incident did not tend to pacify the outraged
feelings of the tipsy Whipcord, who, disappointed of his vengeance on
the countryman, was most pressing in his invitations to Hawkesbury or me
or both of us to dismount and "have it out." Indeed, he was so eager
for satisfaction that he all but pulled me off my seat on to the road,
and would have done so quite had not the horse given a start at the
moment, which put me out of his reach, and nearly upset him in the dust.

Things certainly did not look promising for a nice quiet drive home.
With difficulty we coaxed him back into the trap, where he at once began
to vent his spleen on the horse in a manner which put that animal's
temper to a grand test.

He further insisted on pulling up at every wayside inn for refreshment,
until it became quite evident, if we ever reached London at all, we
should certainly not do so till nearly midnight.

I held a hurried consultation with Hawkesbury as to what ought to be
done.

"Don't you think," suggested I, "we had almost better go on by ourselves
and leave him behind?"

"Oh no," said Hawkesbury; "that would never do. It wouldn't be
honourable."

It occurred to me it would not be much less honourable than inviting a
fellow to a q