We was six mile from the town, when we meets an
old square-headed gray-haired yeoman chap, a-jogging along quite quiet.
He looks up at the coach, and just then a pea hits him on the nose, and
some catches his cob behind and makes him dance up on his hind legs. I
see'd the old boy's face flush and look plaguy awkward, and I thought we
was in for somethin' nasty.
"He turns his cob's head and rides quietly after us just out of shot.
How that 'ere cob did step! We never shook him off not a dozen yards
in the six miles. At first the young gents was werry lively on him; but
afore we got in, seeing how steady the old chap come on, they was quite
quiet, and laid their heads together what they should do. Some was for
fighting, some for axing his pardon. He rides into the town close after
us, comes up when we stops, and says the two as shot at him must come
before a magistrate; and a great crowd comes round, and we couldn't get
the osses to. But the young uns they all stand by one another, and says
all or none must go, and as how they'd fight it out, and have to be
carried. Just as 'twas gettin' serious, and the old boy and the mob was
going to pull 'em off the coach, one little fellow jumps up and says,
'Here--I'll stay. I'm only going three miles farther. My father's name's
Davis; he's known about here, and I'll go before the magistrate with
this gentleman.
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