The first care of the two unspilt friends was to extricate their unfortunate companions from their bed of quickset⁠—a process which gave them the unspeakable satisfaction of discovering that they had sustained no injury, beyond sundry rents in their garments, and various lacerations from the brambles. The next thing to be done was to unharness the horse. This complicated process having been effected, the party walked slowly forward, leading the horse among them, and abandoning the chaise to its fate.

An hour’s walk brought the travellers to a little roadside public-house, with two elm-trees, a horse trough, and a signpost, in front; one or two deformed hayricks behind, a kitchen garden at the side, and rotten sheds and mouldering outhouses jumbled in strange confusion all about it. A redheaded man was working in the garden; and to him Mr. Pickwick called lustily, “Hallo there!”