“Then come along, Sir,” said Sam, setting his master on his feet again. “Come betveen us, sir. Not half a mile to run. Think you’re vinnin’ a cup, sir. Now for it.”

Thus encouraged, Mr. Pickwick made the very best use of his legs. It may be confidently stated that a pair of black gaiters never got over the ground in better style than did those of Mr. Pickwick on this memorable occasion.

The coach was waiting, the horses were fresh, the roads were good, and the driver was willing. The whole party arrived in safety at the Bush before Mr. Pickwick had recovered his breath.