There was a vociferous steam air-pump attached to that car which could be applied at pleasure….
The cart was removed about a bowshot’s length in seven and a quarter seconds, to the accompaniment of parcels clattering. At the foot of the next hill the horse stopped, and the two men came out over the tail-board.
My engineer backed and swung the car, ready to move out of reach.
“The blighted egg-boiler has steam up,” said Mr. Hinchcliffe, pausing to gather a large stone. “Temporise with the beggar, Pye, till the sights come on!”
“I can’t leave my ’orse!” roared the carrier; “but bring ’em up ’ere, an’ I’ll kill ’em all over again.”
“Good morning, Mr. Pyecroft,” I called cheerfully. “Can I give you a lift anywhere?”
The attack broke up round my forewheels.
“Well, we do ’ave the knack o’ meeting in puris naturalibus, as I’ve so often said.” Mr. Pyecroft wrung my hand. “Yes, I’m on leaf. So’s Hinch. We’re visiting friends among these kopjes.”
A monotonous bellowing up the road persisted, where the carrier was still calling for corpses.
“That’s Agg. He’s Hinch’s cousin. You aren’t fortunit in your family connections, Hinch. ’E’s usin’ language in derogation of good manners. Go and abolish ’im.”