Porter. Ah, Sir, you're new to this 'ere job. Fact is, they can all buy theirselves a wife a-piece for two yards of our wire; and as there was a raid last week, and all their wives was made off with, they've just bin and took our telegraph wire to buy theirselves a new lot.
Station-Master. Dear me, how very provoking. I must make a report of this occurrence immediately! But what does this crowd in the distance mean?
Porter. Why bless my heart, it's a Wednesday, and I'd quite forgotten all about it. They always attacks us of a Wednesday, but they're a good half hour earlier than last week.
Station-Master. This is very strange, very strange indeed. I doubt if the directors will approve of this. (An arrow pierces him in the calf of the leg.) Oh, I say, you know, this will never do. Close the points—I mean shut the doors and barricade the windows. Let us at least die as railway men should.
Porter. Lor' bless you, Sir, we shan't die. We've only got to pick off two or three dozen of 'em, and the rest will skip in no time.
[They retire within the palisade, and during the next half hour fight for their lives.
Telegraph Clerk (plucking three arrows out of his left leg). Things are getting a bit hot. Hurrah! here's the 5.30 down express with revolvers and ammunition. Now we shall settle 'em.
[Arrival of the express. Retreat of the natives.
Station-Master. I don't think I quite like this life. I'm going to off it.
[Offs it accordingly.