‘I don’t care whether it’s unsportsmanlike or not,’ replied Mr. Pickwick; ‘I am not going to be shot in a wheel-barrow, for the sake of appearances, to please anybody.’
‘I know the gentleman’ll put that ‘ere charge into somebody afore he’s done,’ growled the long man.
‘Well, well—I don’t mind,’ said poor Winkle, turning his gun-stock uppermost—‘there.’
‘Anythin’ for a quiet life,’ said Mr. Weller; and on they went again.
‘Stop!’ said Mr. Pickwick, after they had gone a few yards farther.
‘What now?’ said Wardle.
‘That gun of Tupman’s is not safe: I know it isn’t,’ said Mr. Pickwick.
‘Eh? What! not safe?’ said Mr. Tupman, in a tone of great alarm.
‘Not as you are carrying it,’ said Mr. Pickwick. ‘I am very sorry to make any further objection, but I cannot consent to go on, unless you carry it as Winkle does his.’
‘I think you had better, sir,’ said the long gamekeeper, ‘or you’re quite as likely to lodge the charge in yourself as in anything else.’