'I won't suffer this barrow to be moved another step,' said Mr

Pickwick, resolutely, 'unless Winkle carries that gun of his in a

different manner.'

How AM I to carry it?' said the wretched Winkle. 'Carry it with the

muzzle to the ground,' replied Mr Pickwick.

It's so unsportsmanlike,' reasoned Winkle.

I don't care whether it's unsportsmanlike or not,' replied Mr Pickwick;

I am not going to be shot in a wheel-barrow, for the sake of

appearances, to please anybody.'

I know the gentleman'll put that 'ere charge into somebody afore he's

done,' growled the long man.

'Well, well - I don't mind,' said poor Winkle, turning his gun- stock

uppermost - 'there.'

Anythin' for a quiet life,' said Mr Weller; and on they went again.

Stop!' said Mr Pickwick, after they had gone a few yards farther.

What now?' said Wardle.

That gun of Tupman's is not safe: I know it isn't,' said Mr Pickwick.

Eh? What! not safe?' said Mr Tupman, in a tone of great alarm.

Not as you are carrying it,' said Mr Pickwick. 'I am very sorry to make

any further objection, but I cannot consent to go on, unless you carry

it as Winkle does his.'

I think you had better, sir,' said the long gamekeeper, 'or you're quite

as likely to lodge the charge in yourself as in anything else.'

Mr Tupman, with the most obliging haste, placed his piece in the

position required, and the party moved on again; the two amateurs

marching with reversed arms, like a couple of privates at a royal

funeral.

The dogs suddenly came to a dead stop, and the party advancing

stealthily a single pace, stopped too.

What's the matter with the dogs' legs?' whispered Mr Winkle. 'How

queer they're standing.'

The Pickwick Papers