He Was Not In The Saddle, But Reposed, Quite At His
Ease, On A Sort Of Low Foot-Board In Front Of The Postchaise, Down
Amongst The Horses' Tails--Convenient For Having His Brains Kicked
Out, At Any Moment.
To this Brigand, the brave Courier, when we
were at a reasonable trot, happened to suggest the practicability
of going faster.
He received the proposal with a perfect yell of
derision; brandished his whip about his head (such a whip! it was
more like a home-made bow); flung up his heels, much higher than
the horses; and disappeared, in a paroxysm, somewhere in the
neighbourhood of the axle-tree. I fully expected to see him lying
in the road, a hundred yards behind, but up came the steeple-
crowned hat again, next minute, and he was seen reposing, as on a
sofa, entertaining himself with the idea, and crying, 'Ha, ha! what
next! Oh the devil! Faster too! Shoo--hoo--o--o!' (This last
ejaculation, an inexpressibly defiant hoot.) Being anxious to
reach our immediate destination that night, I ventured, by-and-by,
to repeat the experiment on my own account. It produced exactly
the same effect. Round flew the whip with the same scornful
flourish, up came the heels, down went the steeple-crowned hat, and
presently he reappeared, reposing as before and saying to himself,
'Ha ha! what next! Faster too! Oh the devil! Shoo--hoo--o--o!'
CHAPTER VII--AN ITALIAN DREAM
I had been travelling, for some days; resting very little in the
night, and never in the day.
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