“How am I to carry it?” said the wretched Winkle.
“Carry it with the muzzle to the ground,” replied Mr. Pickwick.
“It’s so unsportsman-like,” reasoned Winkle.
“I don’t care whether it’s unsportsman-like or not,” replied Mr. Pickwick; “I am not going to be shot in a wheelbarrow, 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 further.
“What now?” said Wardle.
“That gun of Tupman’s is not safe: I know it isn’t,” said Mr. Pickwick.