or he rested on the box in profoundest slumber,
recumbent, with his chin sunk on his chest; and only woke up--with a
start which shook the vehicle--when a black hearse with plumes waving
went rattling by us and back towards Plymouth.

A minute later Mr. Jope reappeared at the coach door, perspiring
copiously, but triumphant.

"Oh, it's been heavinly!" he announced. "Why, hallo! Where's his
Reverence?"

"He couldn't wait, sir. He--he preferred to walk."

"Eh? I didn't see 'en pass the toll-bar. That's a pity, too; for
I wanted to take his opinion. Oh, my son, it's been heavinly!
First of all I tried argyment and called the toll-man a son of a
bitch; and then he fetched up a constable, and, as luck would have
it, Nan--she's in the second coach--knew all about _him_; leastways,
she talked as if she did. Well, the toll-man stuck to his card of
charges and said he hadn't made the law, but it was threepence for
everything on four wheels. 'Four wheels?' I said. 'Don't talk so
weak! We brought nothing into the world and we can't take it out;
but you'd take the breeches off a Highlander,' I says. 'He's on four
wheels,' says the fellow, stubborn as ever. 'So was Elijah,' says I;
'but if you're so mighty particular, we'll try ye another way.'
I paid off the crew of the hearse, gave the word to cast loose, and
down we dumped poor Bill slap in the middle of the roadway.
'Now,' says I, 'we'll leave talking of wheels. What's your charge
for 'en on the flat?' 'Eight bearers at a ha'penny makes fourpence,'
he says. 'No, no, my son,' I says, 'there ain't a-going to be no
bearers. _He's_ happy enough if he stops here all night. You may
charge 'en as a covered conveyance, as I see you've a right to; but
the card says nothing about rate of drivin', except that it mustn't
be reckless; and, you may lay to it, Bill won't be that.' At first
the constable talked big about obstructing the traffic: but Nan was
telling the crowd such terrible things about his past that for very
shame he grew quiet, and the pair agreed that, by lashin' Bill a-top
of the first coach, we might pass him through _gratis_ as personal
luggage--Why, what's the boy cryin' for? It's all over now; and a
principle's a principle."

But still, as the squadron got under way again and moved on amid the
cheers of the populace, I sat speechless, dry-eyed, shaken with
dreadful sobs.

"Easy, my lad--don't start the timbers. In trouble--hey?"

I nodded.