"Here, lend a hand, old man."
"All right," responded Harvey.
The pair of them immediately hoisted Mr. Mole into the carriage, the others took their seats, the engineer blew his whistle, and off they went.
To complete the horror of the spectators, who admired Mole's fortitude, and loathed the apparent barbarity of his friends, as the train was moving off, Harvey was plainly seen to cut off the old gentleman's shattered limbs, and pitch them into some empty goods waggons that were going in another direction.
"What horrid barbarians!" was the general exclamation of the bewildered spectators of the strange scene.
"A pretty object you have made of me certainly," grumbled Mole, looking down at his curtailed legs.
"Your own fault, Mr. Mole," responded Harvey.
"Lucky it was not your head, Mr. Mole," said young Jack.
"You are all against me, I see, but it does not matter."
So saying, Mole took out his pocket flask and was about to refresh himself.