"I thought I'd better see something of the country, you know. Besides, I had a bet with another feller about whether the hills were weally black, or not. I bet him a dozen bottles of champagne that they were not black, after all."
This statement was received with a round of laughter, which seemed to surprise Mr. Sprague, who gazed with mild wonder at his companions, saying: "Weally, I can't see what you fellers are laughing at. I thought I'd better come myself, because the other feller might be color-blind, don't you know."
Here Mr. Sprague rubbed his hands and looked about him to see if his joke was appreciated.
"It seems to me that the expense of your journey will foot up considerably more than a dozen bottles of champagne," said one of the passengers.
"Weally, I didn't think of that. You've got a great head, old fellow. After all, a feller's got to be somewhere, and, by Jove!— What's that?"
This ejaculation was produced by the sudden sinking of the two left wheels in the mire in such a manner that the ponderous Colonel Braddon was thrown into Mr. Sprague's lap.
"You see, I had to go somewhere," said Braddon, humorously.
"Weally, I hope we sha'n't get mixed," gasped Sprague. "If it's all the same to you, I'd rather sit in your lap."
"Just a little incident of travel, my dear sir," said Braddon, laughing, as he resumed his proper seat.
"I should call it rather a large incident," said Mr. Sprague, recovering his breath.